


(Breaking Like) The Heart That's Stuck Inside My Skin

by complexhero



Series: Broke Open Love [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alpha!James, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, alpha!Qrow, omega!Clover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complexhero/pseuds/complexhero
Summary: It’s illegal for omegas to serve in the Atlesian military. For Clover Ebi, this means guarding his heart at all costs. But after a stroke of bad luck during the Battle of Mantle, certain facts about Clover’s dynamic come to light. In lieu of a harsher punishment, the Council agrees to release him into the custody of a responsible alpha: General James Ironwood, his commanding officer and his friend.James has vowed to protect him, by any means necessary. But Clover wasn't meant for idleness. Shut away from society, his only other companion is a spirited bird who visits his balcony. As Clover navigates the shifting boundaries of his relationship with James and the lost potential of his friendship with Qrow, he must decide what it means to be loyal, and what it means to be free.
Relationships: Clover Ebi/James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Broke Open Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679821
Comments: 191
Kudos: 156





	1. Careful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still, it hurt. James only ever wanted him as one thing or the other, a mate or a soldier. Clover was selfish; he wanted both at once or neither at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this fic comes from the song "See You around," by I'm With Her

“I told you I could only protect you as long as you were careful. This… _incident_ has changed everything.”

Clover Ebi held his tongue. It wasn’t his place to defend himself, not as an officer nor as–

Well. He could only have been so careful. He’d been exhausted, up all night defending Mantle and then stuck in a transport with three temperamental alphas. And frankly he wouldn’t have had to be so _careful_ if James had pushed omega reform like he’d promised to years ago. But these things didn’t matter, to the law or to James.

“The council considers yours a special case, Clover. I’m sure you know there are members who have…rather regressive views. However, with your years of loyal service in mind…”

The Battle of Mantle was over. Salem had been pushed back, for now, largely due to the efforts of young Oscar Pine. Clover wasn’t sure what had transpired that night to send James so far off the edge, but whatever it was, team RWBY and company hadn’t deemed it necessary to go public. So, the situation was this: General Ironwood would retain his status in the military and at the Academy. Robyn Hill would take her rightful seat on the Council. Arrests warrants for teams RWBY and JNR, as well as Qrow and Oscar, had been dropped. And Clover Ebi was being stripped of his rank.

“…Councilwoman Hill, in particular, expressed deep concern about sending you to the reformatory. As she was one of the few present when…”

There was something deeply unfair and yet not at all surprising about being left out of the cover-up. So Clover stood there, in front of the General who he’d sworn to serve and who’d sworn to protect him in turn, and took his punishment.

“Nevertheless, we have laws about who can serve in the military. And the Council… _I_ can’t ignore the fact that your dynamic caused you to disobey a direct order.”

What would happen, the next time Salem came for them? What would he be? Just some alpha’s little distraction? Barefoot and pregnant, when he could be out there _helping?_

“We’ve decided that, effective immediately, you will be placed in the custody of an upstanding alpha. Actually…me.”

Clover’s breath caught in his throat. “Excuse me?” he asked. James looked surprised by his outburst, but continued.

“I’ll be taking custody of you, as your alpha,” James repeated. “I’ve already arranged to have the contents of your quarters transferred to mine.”

A hysterical bubble of laughter threatened to burst from his chest. James Ironwood–his commanding officer and his friend for nearly a decade– _James_ would be his alpha. Was already, in the eyes of the law.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted when you signed up,” James said, stepping closer. He cupped Clover’s cheek with his gloved hand. “I can still protect you, if you’ll let me. I promise.”

Clover wasn’t stupid. This was a better deal than he’d expected. Anything was better than some omega reformatory, where they’d just beat the independence out of him and sell him to the highest bidder.

Still, it hurt. James only ever wanted him as one thing or the other, a mate or a soldier. Clover was selfish; he wanted both at once or neither at all.

“…yes, sir.”

James squared his shoulders, seemingly satisfied. “Good,” he said.

Clover thought– _hoped,_ really–that would be that, but then James tilted his chin up, his blue eyes meeting Clover’s teal.

There were many factors Clover could have blamed for what happened next. The still-persistent lack of sleep. That he’d hadn’t had access to suppressants for nearly a week. The shared past with James, and the way old feelings still clawed at his heart despite the years spent putting them to bed.

But none of that entered his mind at the time. There was only a deep sense of shame as James took him in his arms and _kissed_ him. And Clover, exhausted, melted into the embrace. When James pulled away, he chased the contact, a small noise of want escaping his lips. The alpha gazed at him fondly.

James guided him to the mechanical soldiers at the door. “Escort him to my quarters, but be gentle. I don’t want him harmed in any way.”

Head clouded, Clover went with them, obediently.

***

Clover was seventeen when he presented. It was late. Everyone, himself included, assumed he would be a beta like his parents. Betas made excellent soldiers. Cool-headed, agreeable. Comfortable being part of a team. He was set to start at Atlas Academy in just a month.

He’d been visiting family in Argus when it happened. Skin still hot from the beach, feeling overly warm in the bright summer sun, he’d fallen behind his cousins and their friends on the walk back home. He paused in the shade of an alley between two narrow buildings, needing to catch his breath.

“Clover? Oh, there you are. Are you okay?”

The boy’s name was…Eric, maybe? The tall alpha was a couple years older, a friend of a friend who they’d run into at the beach. All day he’d been giving Clover strange looks, hovering in his blind spot.

Clover leaned against the wall, pressing his shoulders into the cold stone, trying to cool down. He wondered if this was what sun stroke felt like.

“I’m…not feeling so good. Can you go get Faye and Cedar?”

Instead of fetching his cousins, the older boy drew in closer, feeling his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Clover sighed at the contact, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them, Eric was standing impossibly close, arms bracketing his sides, trapping him in. He stared hungrily at the neckline of Clover’s tank top. “Gods, you smell amazing.”

His memory wasn’t so good after that.

Luckily, his cousins circled back around before Eric could knot him. When they were finally able to pull the alpha off of him he sunk to the ground, shaking and disoriented, bruises forming on his neck and an uncomfortable slickness between his legs. Faye sat beside him, rubbing his shoulders and trying to calm him down as he struggled not to cry. Cedar punched Eric in the face.

Clover was supposed to return home the next day, but instead he spent an extra week in Argus recuperating from a ‘medical intervention.’ At least, that’s what his father told everyone. He’d never forget the look of shame on his father’s face when he arrived to pick him up from the transport station. Neither of them spoke on the car ride home.

Ebis were fighters, his father was fond of reminding him. Colonel Ebi wasn’t much for social climbing. Every member of his family had served in the Atlas military, to great regard. They’d made their way in strength and hard work and dedication, not in profit or politics or social games. In other words, there was no use for him as an omega bargaining chip.

When his father finally addressed him, later that night after a silent dinner, it was with orders. Colonel Ebi placed two bottles in front of his son. One was a prescription for heat suppressants. One was a dropper with scent blockers.

“You will take these, every single day.”

Clover blinked. Hope bloomed in his chest. He’d all but made his peace with not going to the Academy. They had laws, after all.

“Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t appreciate being put in this position, Clover. Do not disappoint me like this again.”

“I won’t, sir.”

His father sighed, turning to retire to his office. “I’m just glad your mother never had to see you like this.”

***

Clover wasn’t allowed to leave the apartment.

It was a nice apartment, much bigger than his old one. The bed was huge and soft. There was ample space in the closets for all of his things. The kitchen was well equipped, if a little under-used. And the views were incredible. From the balcony, high in the Academy’s tower, he could watch the sun rise over Solitas, all of Atlas and Mantle spread out before him.

But he wouldn’t be joining them. Upper Atlesian society was scandalized at the news that an unmated omega had been rising undetected through their military ranks for the last fifteen years. James thought it would be better for him to lay low until they were properly bonded.

Not to mention the man’s own insecurities.

“Perhaps I let you have too much leeway,” James said. Clover was curled on the couch, with nothing to do but listen to James brief him on their relationship as if their upcoming bond were Amity Communications Tower. “I blame myself, really. I know Qrow can be…distracting.”

That first night was a parade of indignities. Clover watched, numb, as James tapped at his scroll, keying in the code to lock the door from the outside. The reality of the situation was beginning to set in. He hadn’t even been allowed to go back to his old apartment. It was unsettling to know that someone else had sorted through all his things, deciding what to keep and where to put it.

“This is just temporary, of course. I’d like to have you by my side for state functions, once we’re bonded.”

And then there was that. Clover’s eyes flicked to the open bedroom door, anxiety creeping up his neck. James looked up from his scroll.

“Clover,” he said, kneeling in front of the couch and taking Clover’s hands. “I wasn’t planning on claiming you tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about. The situation is new for both of us, and I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for.”

Clover couldn’t help the relieved sigh that escaped his mouth. “Thanks. I…it’s just a lot to take, right now.”

“Of course. There’s no rush for us to bond. But you know that I’ve been…fond of you, for some time now.”

James gently brushed his thumb across the back of his hand, and Clover’s heart clenched. But that was James Ironwood, for you. The man could be so cold and clinical in one moment, and then perfectly tender and thoughtful in the next. The wasted years where James had shut him out were always eventually cut down by the stolen glances, by the confidence kept, by the trust and the loyalty and the little touches that managed to sneak their way in.

Feeling guilty, he gave James his best reassuring smile. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you.”

James returned the smile. “You must be tired. Why don’t you go lie down, and I’ll join you in a minute?”

“Yes, sir.”

The response was automatic, and Clover mentally kicked himself. He felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment. James blinked, then chuckled. “At ease,” he joked, his tone warm. He gave Clover’s hand one last squeeze and stood.

Terms of the night set, Clover went to get ready for bed in his new, strange home. He brushed his teeth (new toothbrush, the sink on the left), found some clothes to sleep in (walk-in closet off the bathroom, second drawer, his favorite sweatpants and his old Atlas Academy t-shirt were still there thank the Gods), and changed for bed (in the bathroom, even though James had seen him in less on missions but this was _different_ ).

He paused as he came back into the bedroom, unsure.

“Either side is fine, I don’t have a preference.”

Clover startled at the alpha’s voice. He turned to find James in the doorway. His jacket was off, and he was loosening his tie. He gave Clover a little smile as he moved past him to the bathroom.

Clover stood there dumbly for a moment as the bathroom door clicked shut. Finally, he shook his head and sighed, then made his way over to the bed. He got under the covers, choosing the side closer to the window. James had been right about one thing: he _was_ tired. Still, the thought that his brain might slow down enough to let him sleep seemed laughable.

After a few minutes, the door clicked open. Clover shut his eyes and buried his face in the pillow, hoping James would think he was sleeping. He felt the rustle of covers, then the bed dipped from the other man’s weight. There was a chirp from James’s scroll and the lights dimmed to black.

They laid there for some time, a strange parody of domesticity. Clover tried to will his body to relax. He tried not to focus on the soft sounds of James’s breath or the warmth of his presence at his back, just barely out of reach.

“Clover,” James said, finally, his voice low and soft. “I know you’re still awake.”

Clover didn’t reply.

The weight behind him shifted, and then Clover felt a soft touch at his back. James massaged his shoulder, easing some of the knots. Clover let out a breath. James’s hand skirted close to the back of his neck. “Can I…?”

Clover nodded, then made a small noise of assent. He shuddered as James gently brushed his neck, soothing him. Outside the kiss in his office, James had kept his distance, perhaps feeling guilty for pushing too far. But now, the alpha’s scent washed over him, projecting warmth and security. He felt his whole body melt as James pulled him close, wrapping an arm around his stomach and pressing a kiss to the base of his neck. He drifted to sleep with the sound of his alpha whispering reassurances into his skin.

***

They settled into a rhythm fairly quickly. Clover woke early out of habit, though there was really no reason to. He would make coffee for them both while James showered, and then they would sit at the kitchen counter and make small talk before James had to leave. The vast majority of the day he had to himself. When James got home, Clover would cook dinner and James would tell him about his day. After, they might watch a movie, or Clover would read while James worked. Sometimes they played a board game, which Clover usually won. Then they would go to bed.

James was true to his word; he didn’t push Clover to make their relationship more intimate. But there were touches. Little gestures meant to soothe or comfort. Clover’s stupid hormones, slowly awakening after their long slumber, weren’t doing him any favors. He was acutely aware of the fact that this polite courtship would come to an end as soon as his heat came, a fact that his body delighted in reminding him of. Every evening he would lie down a respectful distance from James and then sometime during the night his unconscious mind would betray him and he’d wake up tangled in those strong arms.

It was all very domestic and sweet, except that Clover was maybe about to lose his mind.

“Coffee?”

He handed James his mug, allowing the man to press a chaste kiss to his forehead as he rumbled his thanks. James slid into the seat across from him. It had only been a week.

The soft morning light was just beginning to peek through the living room windows. They sat in silence for a moment, Clover admiring the sunrise while James checked his scroll.

“Anything exciting happening today?”

James looked up, raising an eyebrow. “I sincerely hope not. I don’t think we can take any more excitement at the moment.”

Clover plastered on a smile. “You know what I meant.”

“Well,” James murmured, turning back to his scroll. “I have a meeting with Winter in the morning. We need to prep for the Council meeting tomorrow. And then I want to check in with Harriet regarding the remaining Grimm activity in Mantle.”

_Bingo._ “Oh? Still pretty bad out there, huh?”

James sighed. “Don’t get me started. It’s gotten a lot better, but there are still massive gaps in the wall. The inflow of larger Grimm has slowed, thank the Brothers, but there are still so many smaller ones coming through. We can’t be everywhere at once.”

Clover tried not to think about how his beloved Kingfisher was locked in a drawer in his mate’s office, probably rusting shut. “Well, you know Harriet. If there’s someone anyone who can be in two places at once, it’s her.”

“Hmm,” James agreed, sipping his coffee.

_No luck there_ , Clover thought. He’d have to send out a line.

“How’s she doing, by the way?”

James nodded, distracted by a message that had just popped up. “She’s been doing well. I admit I’m still not sure if she’s ready for the responsibility, but so far there have been no problems.”

He could work with this. “Harriet’s competitive, is all. You just have to channel that into something positive. If she understands her team’s counting on her she’ll put her focus there.”

“Unfortunately, her focus is going to be split no matter what, with the recruitment process underway.”

Clover’s heart clenched. They were already recruiting.

He and Elm had been the first Ace Operatives. They’d led the top two teams in the same year at the Academy, and had worked well together as specialists in the field. Vine had been transferred from another elite squad a few months after, and then Harriet had joined after that, just a couple years out of the Academy herself. James recruited all of them personally. They worked well as a four-person team for a while, but James started relying on them more and more in the lead up to the Vytal festival. After Beacon, he’d allowed Clover to bring on a fifth member.

Marrow was his pick. He was unconventional, yes, but that’s what made him good. Mentoring the young faunus had been a highlight of Clover’s job. Guilt tugged at the back of his mind for abandoning his team, Marrow in particular.

“Oh?”

James hummed in assent, as if he hadn’t just dropped a huge bomb. He stood and rinsed out his mug, putting an end to that conversation. _Damn,_ Clover thought. Too much fishing.

“I should get going. Call me if you need anything; your scroll will go straight to me.”

Clover smiled. “Mmm-hmm.”

James leaned down, kissed his forehead, and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Have a good day.”

“You, too.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you.”

And with that the man was gone. Clover looked around the empty apartment.

He was bored out of his skull.

***

Clover had his breakfast on the balcony, as he usually did. There was enough room for a little table and two chairs, not that James ever joined him out there. It was still early, before the buzz of students would fill the courtyards, sounds of life floating up to taunt him.

The food had been an issue at first. James wasn’t picky, but he was the kind of person who could eat the exact same thing every single day and not get sick of it. If humanity ever invented a pill that could provide all the necessary nutrients, James would be the first customer. Clover, on the other hand, needed variety. He liked to eat relatively healthy–especially now that his activity was limited to what could be done in a two-bedroom apartment–but he also liked to try new things. He used to love wandering the markets of Atlas, though they were wildly overpriced. His kitchen was filled with spices and strange imported vegetables and pungent fermented foods.

Whoever had been in charge of moving all of his belongings over had seen fit to pack all of Clover’s pots and pans–and knives, thank the Gods–but had inexplicably thrown out the entire contents of his refrigerator and cabinets. It wasn’t until midway through the second day, having been told to help himself to anything in the kitchen, that he thought to look for his Mistralian chili crisp.

That had been the moment the terms of their arrangement were made explicitly clear. Anything he wanted, any contact with the outside world, he would have to ask James for. He couldn’t pop over to the store any time he wanted something. Deliveries came through a panel in the kitchen wall, an old dumbwaiter that had been repurposed for his arrival. The scroll James left for him was locked; it couldn’t send messages to anyone besides his alpha, who was probably monitoring its use anyway. He could still get news reports, but the stories broadcast to the public was so far below the level of detail he was accustomed to that they were all but useless.

Hence, his morning fishing habit.

He picked at his scrambled eggs. They weren’t bad; after two days of bland, nutrition optimized meals, he’d gotten the leeway to order whatever groceries he wanted. James didn’t know what a lot of the ingredients were, but he’d outsourced the task to others, with mixed success. Today he had tomatoes, peppers and onion, enough to make a rudimentary salsa. But the herbs were wrong, and the peppers were more sweet than spicy. And every little _ask_ he did was coming out of some amorphous budget, where both inputs and outputs were impossible to track. It was the exchange rate that bothered him. What did a bunch of cilantro cost? Would it mean he had to let James hold him for five more minutes in the morning? Or ten?

A crow flitted down and landed on the railing of the balcony. The same bird had been coming by all week, usually in the mornings. At least, Clover thought it was the same bird. It was hard to tell.

“Hey there, little guy,” he greeted, smiling. The crow flapped its wings and squawked, flying down and landing on the table. Clover frowned as the crow inched closer to his half-eaten plate. Just as he was about to shoo the bird away, it pecked at the eggs, securing a good-sized chunk of curd.

“Did you just–” Clover started. “You…you little shit.”

The crow squawked, in what could only be described as a laughing pattern.

He barked out a laugh, the first genuine one in a week, incredulous. Sighing, he pushed the plate forward. “A worthy opponent. Fine, have at it.”

The crow squawked again, but didn’t make a move for the plate. “No? Well, I can’t blame you. It’s not my best work.”

A realization dawned on him. “Oh, Brothers, do you eat eggs? They’re chicken eggs, I swear! But, maybe any egg is bad for you? Or onion, is onion bad for birds?”

He pulled his scroll out, frantically searching. “This says you…sometimes eat the eggs of other birds. Oh. And…nestlings? Okay, gross.”

The crow squawked, offended.

Genuine guilt flashed across his mind. He was going crazy. “Sorry, I guess I’m not in any position to talk. Humans eat all kinds of terrible things. Including all sorts of birds. You’re right, it was insensitive of me.”

Clover indicated the plate of eggs again, as a peace offering. The crow squawk-laughed again, stole a chunk of tomato, and flew off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In writing this fic I, too, had to google a lot about crow behavior, and now I fucking love crows.


	2. Conflicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover stands up to his alpha and gets pushed around by a bird.

One day, almost two weeks since he’d moved in, he woke up especially anxious. The alarm hadn’t gone off yet; he kept tossing and turning in the darkness, his brain working overtime. James eventually huffed and positioned himself nearly on top of Clover, trying to calm him. Crowded in, the static in Clover’s mind quieted a bit.

As they drank their coffee, later, Clover jiggled his leg on the kitchen stool, eyes casting about the apartment.

“James?”

He was on his scroll, of course. His scroll that could actually communicate with other people, unlike Clover’s. James looked up.

Clover leaned in. “I’ve been thinking about your recruitment problem. Flynt Coal is graduating this year. I think you should take a look at him.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

He held up his fingers, ticking off points as he made them. “He’s very mature, he has an excellent semblance, and he’s adaptable to a diverse team.”

“Hmm,” James said, smiling. “You do have a fondness for unusual weapons.”

“I’m serious,” Clover said. “He’s got so much potential. Put him with some real, high-level Huntsmen, and he’ll shine.”

James shook his head, turning back to his scroll. “I’ll consider him for the future, but I can’t wait until he graduates. I need someone as soon as possible.”

His coffee cup completely forgotten, Clover decided to push a bit further.

“You could have him start training with the team now. That way when he gets his license they’ll already know each other’s fighting styles. That’s half the adjustment period, frankly. Besides, think about how great he would be with Marrow. They’re both young and from Mantle. Flynt’s naturally confident, he’ll calm Marrow down. And I noticed with team RWBY that Marrow really responded well to being in a mentorship position.”

“Marrow resigned last week,” James said, eyes still half on his scroll. “That’s why I need someone now.”

“He _what?”_ Clover said, distressed.

James froze, noticing the change in his demeanor. “It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said, finishing his coffee. He stood, going to rinse his mug.

“James–”

“Clover, everything is under control. You don’t need to– “

“Marrow is _my_ recruit, and you expect me not to care that he’s–

“ _Drop it._ ” James commanded. Clover flinched at the tone. James sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Clover pushed his own half-finished coffee back, frustrated. He slouched over the counter, laying his head on his folded arms while he listened to the sounds of the water running. He felt both restless and exhausted. The water turned off, and James walked around to stand behind him. He brushed his fingers through the short hair at the back of Clover’s head. Angry as he was, it felt _amazing_.

“There’s something different about your scent today. Your heat should come soon, I think.”

He tensed. James traced his fingers toward Clover’s neck, moving to soothe him.

“Don’t touch me.”

James sighed, pulling back. “I’m not your enemy, you know.”

Clover didn’t look up until he heard the door shut.

* * *

The crow was back. Clover only glared as it hopped onto the table and eyed his toast, which–like his eggs–was essentially untouched. He didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

He needed a name for the bird. It was a lively thing, if kind of an asshole. Sometimes he told it stories about the Ace Ops while it stole bits of Clover’s breakfast. One time he tried telling it jokes, but it just squawked until he shut up and then bit him.

It was ridiculous, but the crow kind of reminded him of…well. No use in thinking about that now.

The crow hopped around on the table to get his attention, ruffling its feathers.

“You’re in a good mood today, huh? Well, that makes one of us.”

The crow just tilted its head at him. Clover sighed. “Sorry, it’s not your fault.”

He took the toast and tore it into pieces, scattering them on the table. “Here…this bread has a lot of seeds in it. It’s a little dry, to be honest. But it’s pretty healthy. At least for humans. I’m not exactly sure what’s healthy for crows. Maybe worms? But I don’t have any of those. So, bread.”

The crow hopped over to the bread, inspecting it. It was so cute, he couldn’t help but smile.

The crow pecked at a piece of bread. Clover’s face lit up. The crow cocked its head. It hopped forward, indicating the uneaten eggs with its beak, then looking up at Clover.

“Now you _want_ the eggs?” he said, confused. His cursory search in his scroll had revealed many upsetting facts about crow diets in the wild, but unsurprisingly said nothing about whether a snarky backyard crow would eat room temperature scrambled chicken eggs.

The crow just stared at him. It pecked at the bread again, then looked at the eggs, then looked at Clover.

“You…want me to eat?”

The crow squawked, hopping. It moved back to the bread, pecking at a piece and then looking expectantly at Clover. He remembered reading that crows were social birds. Maybe it wanted company?

Clover took a bite of eggs.

The crow squawked and hopped, again. It pecked at another piece of bread.

Clover took another bite.

They continued like this, trading bites of food, until Clover’s eggs were gone and the crow had eaten about half of the bread. After his last bite, the crow squawked and flew up to land on his shoulder.

“Hey!” he yelped, trying to keep still. The crow seemed content to perch on his shoulder, using its beak to groom the fuzzy hairs at Clover’s temple. He sighed.

“Well, I’ve officially lost it,” he said. “The highlight of my day is talking to a bird.”

The crow didn’t seem to take offense to this. In fact, it doubled down on its grooming, hopping closer in so it could work more thoroughly on Clover’s bedhead.

He looked out at Atlas. The city was waking up now, the sounds of cars and airships drifting up to Clover’s balcony. Below them, Mantle had been up for hours. The early shifts had already started in the mines. And Grimm had no schedule. Who even knew what his team had been up to in the last 24 hours.

“James thinks my heat will come in the next couple days.”

The crow paused in its grooming.

He buried his head in his hands. “I just need more _time.”_

There was a rustle of feathers, and the crow hopped down onto the table. It stood there for a minute, a beady red eye trained on Clover, before giving a final squawk and flying off.

* * *

The rest of the morning was uneventful. He cleaned up the kitchen, then worked out and showered. He dressed casually, in loose joggers and a t-shirt. His wardrobe was a little sparse; since he spent so much time in uniform as an Ace Op it was mostly loungewear, and it wasn’t like he had anywhere nice to go these days. He started a load of laundry, read for a few hours, then made lunch.

He was pacing around the living room looking for things to clean–nothing needed cleaning–when he heard a tapping from above. He looked up. The crow from this morning was standing on the skylight, pecking at the glass and peering down at him.

“Huh.”

Once he acknowledged it, the crow flew away. Clover was about to write the whole thing off when he heard more tapping, this time from the balcony doors. It hopped back as he approached, flying up to the table. He slid the door open.

“Hello again, Crow.”

The crow cocked its head at him. “I’ve decided that’s your name. I know, it’s a little obvious. But I promise it’s actually quite an honor.”

Crow ruffled its feathers, but didn’t protest any further. Actually, it looked like the bird was holding something in its beak.

“What have you got there?”

Crow dropped the object on the table. It was small, orange, and pill-shaped. Clover moved a little closer. Actually…it looked a lot like a pill. A very familiar one.

“Is that…?”

He examined the pill. It was a little beat up, but it certainly _looked_ like the heat suppressant he used to take. But why did a crow have one? And why had it brought it here? He knew crows liked to collect shiny things, but collecting omega hormonal regulators seemed like a stretch.

“I hope you didn’t steal this from someone who needs it,” he mused.

Its beak now unoccupied, Crow let out a series of indignant squawks. “All right, sorry! Calm down, okay?”

He put the pill back down on the table. Crow hopped over, looking from the pill up to Clover the same way it had over breakfast. Clover pinched the bridge of his nose.

What were the odds? It wouldn’t be the most _dramatic_ use of his semblance he’d ever had–that honor went to a lucky shot that somehow hooked three Megoliaths together by the tusks, narrowly saving him from being stampeded–but it was certainly the most unusual. He hadn’t even thought he was using his luck earlier, talking to Crow. But maybe the controlled environment of James’s apartment, the dull monotony of being a house husband for nearly two weeks, had left so few random variables in his orbit that his semblance had lashed out.

Whatever it was, it was welcome. He picked up the pill.

“If this goes poorly, I’m gonna look like a real idiot. ‘ _Here lies Clover Ebi, he took random drugs from a bird.’”_

Crow turned an unblinking eye on him, the message clear: _you already are an idiot._

Clover sighed, then retrieved his glass of water from the coffee table. Crow waited on the balcony. Returning, he leaned against the balcony door, holding his glass up in a toast.

“Well, you know what they say. Fortune favors the bold.”

He popped the pill in his mouth, chasing it with a sip of water. Crow squawked happily, flying up onto his shoulder. Maybe he was crazy, but he could swear the bird was smiling.

* * *

The visit from Crow had been a welcome distraction, but as evening crept closer Clover’s foul mood worked its way back under his skin. He kept himself busy chopping vegetables for dinner; the time spent focusing on making perfectly even slices of carrot was time he wouldn’t be playing out hypothetical arguments in his head. Still, by the time the door slid open there was a purposeful _heft_ to each pass of his knife.

James had the decency not to try to kiss him. “How was your day?” he asked cautiously, sliding into his seat at the kitchen counter.

His day had been alternating doses of _boring_ and _weird_ , but he didn’t say that. He just shrugged as he put the finishing touches on their meal. It was a noodle dish Lie Ren had shown him how to make. He’d had to swap in a couple of the ingredients, but he thought it should still work.

“It was fine,” he said, tense. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

James winced. It was a little thrilling, if he were being honest. Back in the Ace Ops, he wouldn’t have dreamed of speaking to his commanding officer with such an attitude.

“Clover, about this morning…”

“Forget it,” he said. He scooped two portions of noodles into bowls, adding herbs and chili oil to finish. He might have had a more liberal hand with the latter than necessary. “I understand. I’m not an Ace Operative anymore; you can’t reveal classified information to a civilian.”

“It’s not just that. Though I hope you know how much I value your opinion.”

He dropped James’s bowl down in front of him with a _thunk_. “Then what?”

James scrubbed a hand through his hair, taking a moment before answering. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Great job.”

“That’s not…” James huffed. “You know that you can’t return to your old life, Clover.”

Clover stabbed at his noodles. The truth of it stung.

“When I had my…” James indicated the metal side of his body, “I was on an elite team, working in the field. It took me years to get even _close_ to the level I was at before. I wasted a lot of time and self-pity comparing myself to my former peers. It was only when I let go of that life that I could start to move on.”

James leaned forward, his blue eyes kind. “Sometimes we need to make a clean break.”

He didn’t have any good responses to that, so he looked down, fiddling with his chopsticks.

James sighed. “Thank you for cooking, by the way. This looks lovely.”

He grunted an acknowledgement. The room was silent for a few moments as they ate, and then James started violently coughing.

Clover looked up, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

James coughed again. “It’s a little spicy,” he said. He downed half his glass of water.

“Is it? I put less chili in yours.”

Clover reached over and plucked a few noodles out of James’s bowl. They were a little hot, but not overly so. He frowned. He tried the noodles in his own bowl. They were definitely spicier.

“Maybe you got a bite with a lot in it,” Clover said. He tried James’s again.

“How are you not dying?”

“It’s not that hot,” Clover shrugged. He stood, moving to take the bowl. “Sorry about that, I’ll make you another.”

James waved his hand away, despite the fact that his eyes were still watering. “No, no, you went to all the trouble of cooking. Don’t worry about it.”

“James, it’s no trouble. The noodles themselves aren’t spicy, just the topping. Don’t suffer on my account.”

“I’m not! It’s very good, actually! I just…wasn’t expecting it. But now I know, so…”

Clover stared, baffled, as James Ironwood, General of Atlas, visibly girded himself and then took the tiniest bite of noodles. The man was sweating.

He couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.

“You were…ahaha…you were seriously going to…to…your _face,_ James!”

Clover slapped his hand on the counter, shoulders shaking as James stared up at him. A glance at the betrayed look on the other man’s face started him up again.

“I _promise_ , I didn’t try to poison you!” he said, hands out defensively. “I just didn’t know you were such a…such a…”

James snorted, the corners of his mouth tugging up. He dabbed at his forehead with his napkin, shaking his head. “Such a baby?”

“You said it, not me,” Clover replied, winking. James chuckled. The low rumble of his laugh sent a burst of warmth through Clover’s chest. He whisked James’s bowl away, turning to fix a fresh portion.

“It’s fine, you’re not the first to notice,” James said. “Glynda always used to make fun of me. That woman is an actual dragon, I swear.”

Clover handed James a fresh bowl. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Have I ever told you about the time she won a hot wing eating competition?”

Clover had never met Glynda Goodwitch, but he’d heard stories. “Seriously?”

James chuckled, picking up his chopsticks. “There used to be this place in Vale that all the students would go to. It was an…interesting establishment.”

“A real dive bar?”

“If you can imagine such a thing for teenagers, yes. Well, one time while I was visiting Ozpin–this really _is_ good, by the way–we got a tip that this place was selling alcohol to Beacon students. So of course, Glynda had to go down there, and…”

And just like that, it was like old times. Back before Mantle, before the Amity project, before Beacon. Back when they were friends, running missions and complaining about higher-ups and training and joking around.

Later, the morning’s argument forgotten, Clover put on an old cop movie. They talked over the whole thing, making fun of the exaggerated gun fights and the obvious Vacuo backlots standing in for the streets of Argus. At one point, trying to get comfortable on the couch, he stretched his legs out over James’s lap. The alpha sent him a questioning glance. Clover blushed but held his ground, turning back to the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James smile. He settled in, rubbing Clover’s calves idly as he watched. The warmth bloomed in Clover’s chest again.

Was this what it was supposed to be like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will let you, the readers, decide for yourselves whether you think Clover is actually a good cook or of he's just one of those guys who's always harping on about his sourdough starter.


	3. Heated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover's terrible, horrible, no good, kind of horny day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I generally don't put warnings since I presume people know the kinds of themes that come with a/b/o fics. But just HEADS UP, there is a scene with a shitty medical professional in this chapter that is kind of upsetting.

The next day he woke with a little fever. He groaned as James pressed a cool cloth to his head, feeling stupid. That’s what he got for trusting birds.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” James said, his voice low and soothing. “I’m here.”

It had been _ages_ since his last heat. In fact, it had been so long ago that Clover was struggling to remember if this was actually normal, or if whatever he’d taken yesterday had somehow poisoned him. His hormones were heightened, but not out of control. He felt sensitive to everything, but he didn’t feel the intense _need_ that usually accompanied a heat.

James certainly seemed to think his heat was starting. Though Clover warned that it would be hours before the worst of it hit, James made a flurry of calls, canceling meetings and arranging for Winter to take care of various responsibilities. The rest of the morning was spent making sure Clover was as comfortable as possible, probably enjoying the fact that for once the omega was fully pliant and agreeable.

“Just tell me what you need,” James said, stroking his back as Clover lay sprawled against his chest, the once-cool metal heated by the flush of Clover’s skin. He shuddered at the touch, content for now to linger in this strange liminal space between his rational mind and the terrifying compulsion that his heat usually brought.

By midday, though, the fever had cleared completely. Clover still felt a little turned on from all the physical contact, but he was back in his own head enough to shrink away when James tried to nuzzle his neck for the millionth time. By the afternoon, he just wanted to take a shower.

“I think it’s a false alarm,” he said, finally extricating himself from James’s arms. The man looked a little lost. Clover ducked his head as he escaped to the bathroom, feeling guilty.

James was taking a call in his office when Clover finished. He quietly padded into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal, feeling famished. Halfway through his meal James emerged, running a hand through his hair and looking frustrated. He was still shirtless, and Clover’s eyes were drawn to the corded muscles of his chest, the raw strength of his metal shoulder and arm. Their eyes met and Clover blushed, spoon poised over the bowl.

“I called a doctor,” James said, his voice hoarse. “They’ll be here in an hour.”

With that he turned and disappeared into the bedroom to take his own, probably cold, shower.

* * *

The doctor was a no-nonsense beta woman in her fifties, with graying blond hair pulled into a bun. Clover recognized the crisp military professionalism in her demeanor; she was Altesian through and through. She was also the only other human being he’d seen or talked to in nearly two weeks, and thus she was currently the most interesting person in the world.

Frustratingly, James hadn’t actually _introduced_ the woman, nor had she volunteered her name or responded when _he’d_ volunteered _his_. Actually, she’d hardly addressed him at all. For that matter, James was so quick to answer any questions she posed that he could hardly get a word in edgewise.

“Well, you’re right. He’s not in heat.”

James’s hand twitched on his shoulder. “Yes, I can see that. What I want to know is why.”

Clover was perched at the kitchen island, the doctor’s equipment arranged neatly on the counter. James hovered possessively at his side, keeping as close to him as possible while still allowing the doctor to work. She’d already done a basic physical exam. Now she was attempting to take a blood sample.

“We’ll try to find out. Squeeze this.”

Clover obeyed, squeezing the ball she’d given him. “Yes, ma’am.”

It was her tone. Military habits died hard.

“Good. Now hold.”

He wasn’t squeamish about needles, but he noticed James looking away as she drew several vials of his blood.

“Put pressure on this.”

He held the cotton ball to his arm. She pulled off a piece of tape and placed it where he’d been holding. She carefully stored the vials in her case, attaching a label to each one. Clover glanced up at James. The alpha smiled at him, rubbing his back reassuringly, as if Clover was the one needing comfort in this particular instance. 

In fact, it was the opposite. Clover _hadn’t_ gone into heat, which meant he _hadn’t_ completely lost his mind and begged James to fuck him, and knot him, and bite him and _take_ him, please. Clover was over the moon, in this situation. If he’d had this kind of self-control all along, he could have saved himself a lot of heartbreak over the years. He sent a little thank-you to his semblance as the doctor made a few notes in her folder.

“I just have a couple questions I’d like to ask Mr. Ebi in private,” she said.

James drew up to his full height. “I’m his alpha.”

The doctor glanced between them. Clover could sympathize. James was technically her boss. And if the vice grip he had on Clover’s shoulder was any indication, he was still running a bit hot. “It’s okay,” he said, “He can stay.”

The doctor nodded. Clover relaxed. At least he could actually participate in this conversation.

“When did you take your last dose of suppressants?” she asked.

“Almost three weeks ago,” he lied. Though technically he didn’t really know what he’d taken yesterday.

“What day exactly? It’s fine if you don’t remember.”

“It was the day before the attack. So, the 14th. Around 0800,” he said.

She made a note in her file. “That’s usually enough time to clear out of the system.”

“Oh, really?” Clover said. Shit. He should have told her something else.

“It’s not necessarily bad news,” she said. “Suppressants can be unpredictable. How long have you been taking them?”

“On and off since I was 17.”

“When was your last full heat?”

“Probably three years ago.”

“And this morning, you said you woke up with the fever?”

“Yes.”

“What time was that?”

“0600.”

“And your other symptoms?”

“Specifically, ma’am?” he asked. Was there a nice way of saying he’d felt aroused? Was that…a symptom?

“Any pain?”

“Oh! No, no pain.”

“And this morning, did you have sex?”

Behind him, James choked on air. Clover’s face flushed. “Uh, no.”

“Were you able to produce omegan secretions?”

He could die now.

“…yes.”

“And the last time you had sex, were there any problems like this?”

“No.”

“And how long ago was that?”

Clover waited for the floor to open up and consume him whole. “Also three years.”

The doctor raised her eyebrows, making a note in her folder. She briefly looked from him to James, who was studying the floor with great interest.

A lot of the less… _regressive_ arguments in favor of the omega ban centered around the practical, logistic matter of integrating omegas into the current military structure. For the first time in Clover’s life, he thought they had a point. He now realized Atlas would have to fire all its existing medical staff and hire new people. Because the current doctors were _awful_.

This particular awful doctor snapped her folder shut and began putting away her equipment. She turned to James, delivering her report to him as if Clover were a malfunctioning computer. “All right. I suspect there’s some lingering suppressants in his system that are interfering with his cycle. If that’s the case, it will just be a matter of waiting it out. I’ll know more after doing some tests.

“Other than that, he’s perfectly healthy. Since there’s no pain or discomfort, I see no reason for him not to engage in any normal activities. If he goes longer than a month without his heat triggering, please see me. We can induce it if needed, but there’s a higher chance of fertility if it comes naturally. Any other questions?”

Silence.

“Very well. General Ironwood, Mr. Ebi.”

She saw herself out.

* * *

He had a decent idea what kind of “normal activities” the doctor thought he should be engaging in, but to his relief James retired to his office to catch up on whatever work Clover had apparently needlessly kept him from. The upside was that he had a couple hours at least before he would have to even consider making eye contact with the alpha.

It was still early in the evening, and after spending half the day in bed that was the last place Clover wanted to go. Usually when he was feeling restless he would go for a run, or clock some hours in the training room, but those options weren’t available. So he did the only other physically active thing that he could do: he started baking. 

He put on some music and let his body take him through the familiar motions. Clover liked to cook the same way he liked to fight: fluid, efficient, each motion setting him up for the next. His cousin Cedar always chided him for multitasking, in the kitchen and at the Academy. And to be fair, when Clover was young and still learning Cedar had been witness to both burnt meals and broken bones. But the whole fun of it was the knife’s-edge thrill of always needing to be three steps ahead, stacking the tasks in his mind and executing each one in turn in a graceful, complex dance.

They didn’t have a wide variety of ingredients in the pantry, so what he’d made was fairly simple: thumbprint cookies with raspberry jam, chocolate orange sablés, and brown butter blondies with walnuts. By the time he pulled the last batch of cookies out of the oven, James had emerged from the office. He looked tired.

Clover glanced up as he placed the tray on a cooling rack, suddenly hesitant.

“Hey,” he said.

James took in the multitude of baked goods arranged across the kitchen island and then turned to Clover, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Do I have flour on me?” Clover asked, scrubbing his cheek with the back of his arm.

James shook his head, breaking from his trance. “No, it’s just…I was just thinking what a wonderful bearer you’ll be.”

Clover’s cheeks flushed. “…oh.”

James came around the island, slowly, his gaze heated. Clover couldn’t look away, entranced by James’s blue eyes.

“I…didn’t realize you waited for me, after…that time.”

Clover’s eyes flicked down, old hurts coming to bear. “You were right, we didn’t have the time. Especially after Beacon. It would have been selfish to take a week off just so I could– “

“I was a fool.”

Clover looked up, surprised. James drew in close, cupping Clover’s face with his hand. His eyes were trained on Clover’s mouth. “I’m sorry, Clover. Just the thought that I could have had you in my bed this whole time…”

Something small, buried in his heart long ago, _clicked_ at that statement, and this time it was Clover who moved in. He grabbed James by the lapel of his jacket, bringing their lips together. James leaned in, deepening the kiss as he encircled Clover’s waist. Clover’s mind short-circuited, and he tilted his head back in submission.

It was unlike any other kiss they’d shared. Up until that point, their physical relationship had a sort of marital chastity to it. Fond, soothing, comforting, safe. Even the kiss in James’s office has a certain safeness to it, from Clover’s perspective. It was a declaration of intention, to assure Clover that the bond would be neither loveless nor sexless. But it didn’t require him to respond in any way other than purely hormonal, nor was it broadly indicative of James’s desire for him.

This was different. The sheer feeling of attraction that coursed through him was completely foreign, outside of his heats. James kept the kiss slow, like old friends catching up, methodically exploring Clover’s mouth with his tongue. He moaned as James broke away, hands pushing through the other man’s hair as he felt the scratch of James’s beard at his neck. It was exhilarating, dangerous, terrifying.

“Gods, you smell amazing,” James murmured, licking a wet stripe across his neck.

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down Clover’s back. He pulled away, separating them with a gentle shove. “James,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

But James didn’t look upset, or confused like he had that morning. Instead he looked…kind of smug.

“I…” Clover started, casting about for an excuse. Lamely, he gestured to the various baked goods around them. “It’s late. I should clean this up.”

“Okay,” James said.

He plucked a sablé from one of the trays, biting into it even though Clover knew he didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. “These are good,” he said.

“Oh,” Clover said. “Thanks. It’s too much, I know, we’ll never eat all of it.”

“I could bring in the extras.”

“Yeah?” Clover said. James popped the rest of the sablé into his mouth, licking a crumb from his finger. Clover swallowed. “Maybe you can bring some to…”

He was about to say, ‘Winter and the Ace Ops,’ but then he paused to consider the optics of that: their former Captain, now out of commission so that he could take the General’s knot, had spent the day he was supposed to be taking said knot baking them a bunch of cookies. It wasn’t great for anyone.

“…to the students,” he finished, coughing. “Anonymously.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Clover said. James was still giving him that self-satisfied smile, leaning against the opposite counter with his arms crossed. “So I’ll just…do that.”

“Okay.”

James pushed away from the counter, his arms uncrossing. He brushed Clover’s shoulder as he moved past him. “Don’t stay up too late. I’ll be in bed.”

Clover watched him go. As the bedroom door clicked shut he leaned over the counter, his brain struggling to process the last ten minutes.

He was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize that Qrow is not in this chapter. He'll be back in the very first scene of chapter 4! I promise!


	4. Chilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover can have a little therapy, as a treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I couldn't help but squeeze in this short chapter. I went into my weekend with the goal of writing fanfiction and cleaning my house and I have been extremely successful at exactly one of those things.

The next day was back to business as usual. Sort of.

Brothers only knew what James would tell everyone who asked why he was back at work so soon. He already hated the idea that _everyone knew_ he was James’s omega now. But then to go back and say actually, they had some kind of false alarm? That there was something _wrong_ with him? Clover felt so guilty over the whole thing that he didn’t even _try_ to fish for information over coffee.

And then there was James. The awkwardness was unavoidable now. Clover couldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy James’s touch, and last night that touch had gotten…intense. James seemed to think it was all a great challenge, now that he had Clover on the ropes. But good excuses for why he wouldn’t mate, with James or anyone else, were running thin. Clover didn’t have a nice way to say, ‘I’m attracted to you and I know you’re in love with me and yes that should probably make me happy but I also value my independence and I resent the situation I find myself in so I’d prefer to wait until my body forces me to copulate with you,’ so he said nothing at all.

The line had held, but everything had changed.

All of this is to say that he was crying a little bit when Crow landed on the balcony railing that morning.

“Oh,” he sniffed, his yogurt and fruit bowl essentially untouched, as he stared off into the distance. “Hello, Crow.”

Clover dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve. Crow cocked its head at him. He tried to smile; it came out a bit wobbly. “Sorry I didn’t come out, yesterday. Hey, your plan worked though. No mark, see?”

He pulled the neck of his shirt down–in what would be a borderline obscene display were it not directed at a bird–so Crow could see the unmarred skin.

Crow stared for a minute, then opened its beak and dropped another suppressant on the railing. 

Clover started sobbing.

He buried his head in his arms, hunched over the table. Crow hopped up onto his shoulders, cooing softly and nuzzling his head. It only made him more emotional. He just felt so _raw,_ all of the events of the last few weeks coming to a head.

“I don’t think I can…I probably shouldn’t take…maybe I should just _give in_ and just…just…”

More sobs wracked his body. But Crow stayed, grooming his bedhead into something almost presentable.

Eventually, his tears subsided. He straightened, wiping his eyes then blowing his nose with his napkin. Crow hopped off his shoulders and stole a blueberry from his bowl. The bird looked up at him. “Oh,” he said, sniffling, “Crow, I don’t really…I just don’t feel like…”

The bird squawked, hopping back on to his shoulder and nipping at his ear. “Ow! Fine, okay, I can eat!”

He shoveled a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth. Crow seemed pleased. It squawked, then stole another berry. Clover had absolutely no appetite, but he made it through about half the bowl, picking out some of the fruit to give to Crow.

After a while he sighed, picking up the suppressant. He rolled it in his fingers, considering. He turned to Crow, who was grooming his wings on the table.

“I’m not gonna take this right now, but I’ll hold on to it, okay? Thank you, Crow.”

Crow seemed satisfied with that. Clover felt a little silly, projecting so much understanding onto a bird that probably just liked getting fed. Crow gave a final squawk and flew off.

Something floated down to the table as it did so, and Clover snatched it out of the air. It was a perfect feather, black with shades of blue and green and purple where the light hit it.

Clover twirled the feather in his fingers, feeling a little lighter.

* * *

Apparently whatever possessive cloud James was in didn’t extend to Winter Schnee, because she came to visit him that afternoon. He’d been reading, slouched upside-down over the couch, his legs dangling over the back while his head hung off the edge of the seat, book held above his upturned face. He heard the door buzz but hadn’t moved, confused. It wasn’t like he could answer it. Seconds later, the lock beeped in recognition.

Clover looked up, expecting James, though the man never came home for lunch. Instead, he heard the clack of heels on the floor as Winter drew around to the living room, all Atlesian poise and grace. He wasn’t sure what kind of face he made when he saw her inverted figure, some mix of disappointment and relief and excitement. Whatever it was, Winter seemed concerned.

“Winter!”

Despite her pedigree, he’d always liked Winter Schnee. She was nearly a decade younger, and yet she had a pragmatism and maturity well beyond her years. Like him, she’d followed James because the General had seen beyond her surface potential. She was a stickler for protocol, more so than Clover, but only because she’d seen the ways money and influence could subvert the law.

She was also, ironically for a Schnee, exactly the perfect beta soldier that his father always wanted him to be. The Colonel was probably rolling in his grave considering Clover’s behavior these last few weeks.

“Clover, it’s good to see you. That’s an…interesting way to sit.”

He laughed and righted himself, standing. He very badly wanted to hug her, but her arm was in a sling and she had the remnants of a black eye and actually, they weren’t exactly hugging friends. “How are you? Are you okay? What’s the situation in Mantle? Have you talked to Marrow?”

Clover kicked himself. That was too many questions. Winter humored him, the corners of her mouth tilting up. “I’m well. All patched up, now. And I should let you know, I’ve been instructed not to reveal any details about the status of Atlas and Mantle.”

“Oh,” he said. “James sent you, then?”

“The General said you seemed…distraught when he left.”

He wondered if it was obvious he’d been crying. “Oh.”

“For what it’s worth, he seemed a bit distracted himself.”

That was the politest way of saying _‘I know you gave my boss the worst case of blue balls in the history of Remnant’_ that he’d ever heard.

Clover sighed. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

There was a pause. “Do you want to play cards?”

She held up a pack. If she’d been sent to keep him company then he rather wanted to ask her to spar instead, but James probably hadn’t invited her into his home with the intention of his omega engaging in anything…sweaty.

Clover smiled. “This is below your pay grade, Winter.”

“I’m aware.”

“You have better things to do.”

“I don’t. I’m still on limited duty. Consider this a personal visit.”

He threw up his hands. “Sure, then, why not? I hope you like losing.”

They set up at the kitchen counter, Winter sitting in James’s usual spot while he made them tea. He felt a little underdressed, hanging around in lounge pants while Winter was in full uniform. But she didn’t comment on it as she dealt the first hand. His social skills were a little rusty, but he offered her some of the remaining cookies, in an effort toward politeness.

“Did the General bring you these?” she asked, taking a raspberry thumbprint. 

Clover froze. “He sent some up.”

Winter shook her head. “They were in the mess hall this morning; people were going crazy. No one can figure out who brought them. I can’t believe he took so many for you.”

Clover glanced around the kitchen, feeling vindicated for his impeccable cleaning habits for once. “Well, when you’re the General, you know…” he said vaguely.

They played for a few hands, mostly focused on the cards. He’d just won his third round when she suddenly spoke.

“My mother is doing quite well.”

Clover looked up from his shuffling. “Your mother?”

Winter nodded. “Yes, my _mother_ is doing quite well. You know, she’s had a problem with drinking for many years.”

“I…didn’t know, actually. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Was this some kind of code? He and Winter had a mutual respect, but they didn’t have a lot of personal conversations. Why bring up her mother’s drinking problem? Was she trying to tell him something about Qrow? Which seemed strange, he knew she wasn’t fond of the man.

“It’s fine. I’ve made my peace with it,” she said. He handed her the deck and she began dealing. “But with my father in prison…she’s doing much better.”

He wasn’t sure what Jacques Schnee and prison were in this metaphor, but maybe this was her way of telling him Qrow was okay. His heart ached a little, thinking of the way they’d left off. He’d probably never see the man again. Even if Qrow was still in Atlas, there was no way James would let him get anywhere near Clover. Most days, he tried not to think about that.

Winter glanced over at him. Some of his wistfulness must have shown on his face. “Lots of things have changed since then.”

Clover coughed and fanned out his cards, trying to act normal. “You’re telling me. That’s…good news, though, about your…mother.”

“She’s an omega too, actually.”

“…oh?”

Clover was starting to lose the thread. He’d spent the morning bawling his eyes out and being comforted by a bird. He had no head for subtlety today.

Winter sighed, setting her cards down. “With everything with the arrest, I…and Weiss feels the same way, I think…our mother probably knew, before any of us did, how horrible he was. And we were never able to hear her.”

Clover nodded, absolutely not understanding.

“And now that we’re older, now that our father is out of the picture…she’s been much better at expressing her needs. I just wish we could have done something sooner. Does that make sense?”

“Sure,” he said.

Winter patted his arm, awkwardly, then picked her cards back up. He had a feeling he’d entirely missed something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair to Clover, Winter's way of saying "I love you" is "You could have been shot down."


	5. Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover gets sentimental. James does some digging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof. This chapter was so very hard to write. So, uh, I'm just gonna throw up a little content warning for this one. **Threats, non-consensual kissing/touching, depression.** Ugh.
> 
> I promise things will start looking up for Clover soon! But first...well.

Winter stayed about an hour, then left with promises to try to come back tomorrow. Clover sighed as he wandered the empty house, tidying up. Somehow having had a visitor just made the loneliness even stronger.

In the bedroom, in the nightstand, he had a small box of keepsakes. Clover was trying not to be so sentimental, since coming here, but now he _needed_ to open it. He sat on the floor, back to the bed, the little wooden box open in his lap.

The contents were sparse but precious. His mother’s, now his, lucky pin. His father’s medals. His rabbit’s foot, a gift from his cousin Faye. A few letters from her and Cedar, made more precious after the borders closed. Pictures of Cedar’s kids, Bianca and Rafe, his niece and nephew. A drawing Bianca had given him the last time he was in Argus, of them all on the streetcar, names above each stick figure in her chaotic block letters. A ticket stub from a concert he’d gone to with the Ace Ops, not long after Marrow joined. And his red bandanna, which had been a gift from James.

He touched each one, smiling. But it was the bandanna he took out and unfolded, placing the suppressant Crow had given him in the center before folding it back up. Much as he hated playing fast and loose with his hormones, he didn’t know if or when he would get another one. Better to wait a couple days. It might mean more of these pseudo-heats, but it was better than the alternative.

He placed the bandanna back in the box, stuffing it under the letters. After a moment of consideration, he added the feather from Crow as well.

* * *

James brought him _flowers._

“Did you have a good day?” James asked, sweeping into the apartment with a million-lien smile. If _his_ day at work had been at all awkward or embarrassing, he wasn’t showing it. In fact, he looked every bit the dashing alpha, and here Clover was, barefoot, eyes puffy, blankly staring at a pot of soup. 

Clover gave a vague nod. “Are those…”

“For you,” James said, presenting him with a bouquet of wildflowers: daffodils, lavender, and…

“Too on the nose?” he asked, as Clover bent to inhale the grassy, sweet scent of his mother’s favorite clover. Crimson blossoms tickled his face, and he closed his eyes, remembering.

Oh, no. He was going to cry again.

Clover turned away with a loud sniff, hiding his face as he stirred the soup. This was uncharted territory. He had _never_ cried in front of James before, and James had seen him in some…intense situations. “No, they’re…they’re lovely, thank you.”

There was a distinct wobble to his voice, and James gently spun him around, setting the flowers down on the counter. He sniffled again, trying to hide his watery eyes. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Clover shook his head. “I’m fine, really. Just allergies.”

James hesitated. “Do you…want me to get rid of them?”

“No!”

His reaction surprised them both. James recovered first.

“Okay. Why don’t I…put these in some water?”

Clover nodded, turning away, not trusting his voice.

James busied himself doing so, taking perhaps more time than necessary as Clover tried to control himself. He discreetly dabbed at his eyes, trying to think of anything neutral. It was surprisingly difficult. Even the most boring topics–mission stats and Vine’s terrible poetry and Specialist Cordovin’s reports from Argus–reminded him of something he couldn’t have any more.

By the time the bouquet was proudly displayed in the kitchen window–but not on the counter, where he would have to see it all day–Clover mostly had a handle on the situation. The soup pot was thoroughly stirred at that point, and James retrieved a couple bowls from the cabinet.

They ate in silence, James keeping a cautious eye on him for any impending tears. Clover just stared into his soup, equal parts embarrassed and numb. When they were done, he sat there while James washed their dishes, gazing at the flowers.

“Have I gotten any letters?” Clover finally said, breaking the silence.

The water turned off, and James turned to him, wiping his hands on a towel. “Letters?”

“Cedar usually sends a letter every month. And it’s been more than that since the last one, so I was just wondering…”

James furrowed his brow. “Well, mail transports have been disrupted, ever since the attack. It’s probably just taking a bit longer than usual. But, I’ll make sure to check, tomorrow.”

“That would be great,” Clover said, smiling. “Thank you. And…it was good to see Winter, today.” 

“I’m glad,” James said, looking at him like he was a spooked animal. “I could ask her if she wants to come back, tomorrow?”

Clover nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

Clover took a deep breath, looking around the apartment. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

* * *

That night, Clover dreamed about his mother. The actual events were vague, nonsensical. Little flashes–of sunny lakeside mornings, of chestnut hair swept into a messy bun, of warm teal eyes and slender yet calloused hands brushing back his hair–danced in and out of his mind, mixing with the mundanity of his regular life. It was a happy dream, really. He was living in a carefree world where nothing was wrong, and no one ever died, and time had unstuck itself so that his mother could be sitting there, unchanged since he was fifteen, in the briefing room with all the Ace Ops while he talked them through their missions for the day. Really, he was glad he’d had the dream, if only to remember her face again.

The game he liked to play, sometimes, was to imagine all the things he’d tell his mother if she could see him now. The Academy, the Ace Ops, all the important things he’d done, and all the important people in his life. It was his way of squaring away the years, making peace with the fact that the Clover she knew had been a child, barely formed, the nearly twenty-year chasm between his mother as he’d last known her and the man he was now was growing every second. But it was self-indulgent, at the same time; he only wanted to imagine telling her the things he was proud of.

If he thought about the last few weeks, about the last few _months_ , even, there was so very little he wanted to tell her.

He woke with tears in his eyes, in the darkness of James’s bedroom in Atlas.

As the last vestiges of his dream world evaporated, he let out a soft sob, gasping for air as he pressed his face into the pillow. Beside him, James slept peacefully. Clover hesitated a moment, then rolled over, burying his face in James’s chest.

The other man woke slowly, confused.

“Clover?” he said, voice rough with sleep. “What’s the matter?”

Clover shook his head, not wanting to speak, clinging to the alpha. “Bad dream,” he managed to gasp, though admitting it sent another heaving sob through his body.

James wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back as Clover clung tighter, the comfort setting him off again. It was easier, in the darkness, to let himself go like this. James pressed a kiss to his head, whispering reassurances, as Clover cried.

Carefully, he sorted through the images of his dream, both truth and fiction, separating the sentimental from the residual and saying a tearful goodbye to each one that resonated. Here was his mother making him pancakes. Here was his mother showing him how to paddle a boat. Here was his mother having tea with Marrow, whom she’d never met.

Eventually he drifted back to sleep, curled exhausted at James’s side, the shuddering sobs leaving aches in his shoulders that James soothed with his hands.

* * *

Clover didn’t acknowledge his red eyes or the bone-deep exhaustion that gripped him the next morning, so thankfully neither did James. Winter did come back that afternoon, though. And the day after that. He had a kind of holding pattern with the three people, the only three people–well, two people and a bird–in his life, portioning out his emotions and bequeathing each in turn.

To James, he gave a gentle domestic facade, neither encouraging nor resisting. The alpha backed off of his seduction campaign after Clover’s bout of tears, perhaps shaken by the sight of his star Ace Operative sobbing helpless in the night. Clover saw little point in taking an active role, anymore. The man already knew he could have him sexually. Now, he knew he could have him emotionally as well. All that was left was to put the two together, and if James wanted to do that then he could damn well initiate it himself.

To Winter, he gave his strength. The sling on her arm was gone by the second day–she wasn’t kidding about being all patched up–but there was something uncertain in her demeanor. It was too soon for Winter to be so jaded. He was sure it had taken him much longer, when he was that age. But the woman obviously had her own reasons for enlisting in the military, and for staying loyal to James. For her, he saved his best (bad) jokes, his shop-talk, his liveliest games of poker, and his tastiest, most delicate baked goods. He would gladly spend all morning baking just so he could claim James had sent him exactly one perfect macaron, and wouldn’t she like to try it?

To Crow…Crow he could be honest with.

He started telling Crow about his mother; about his cousins and his niece and nephew. He read Crow the letters from Cedar and Faye, showed him the pictures, talked Crow through every precious item in his little box. When he showed Crow the suppressant still tucked in his bandanna, he shrugged, sniffling.

“It doesn’t really matter now, does it?” he said.

Crow squawked, _loud_ , and bit his hand.

He pulled back. “Hey! What’s wrong with you?”

Crow flapped its wings, flying up and dive-bombing Clover’s head. He ducked, confused. “Crow, _stop,”_ he pleaded, the fact that this was a bird and not a person completely lost on him for the moment.

Crow stilled, coming to rest on the balcony railing, feathers puffed up. Clover held out his arm, speaking in a soft, soothing voice. “Crow, please, don’t be mad, okay? Just, _please_ , will you stay?”

The tears were running freely down his face, at this point. He never used to cry, back when his father was alive. But the last three days had been…just a whirlwind. Once the cap had been loosened, there was no stopping the flow.

Crow climbed onto his hand, hesitantly. Clover guided him back to the table, but instead of landing there, Crow hopped onto his shoulder. Clover eyed him, warily.

“You’re not going to bite me, are you?”

Crow ruffled its feathers. Clover took that as a no. He wiped his eyes, pulling himself back together.

“Okay…I might be out of commission for a couple days. I don’t know when. Can I leave you something? Almonds?”

Crow cooed softly as he groomed Clover, indicating…he thought, yes.

“Okay, I’ll do that,” Clover said. “And it’s not like I’m dying, right? I’ll still be able to come out and visit you, after.”

He took a deep, shaking breath, looking Crow in the eye. “All right. Wish me luck.”

Crow blinked, then looked down, shuffling back. After a few seconds, he flew off.

* * *

Three days after his aborted heat, when Clover had all but resigned himself to his fate, James came home early. It was late afternoon, and Winter had left only an hour ago. He hadn’t even started cooking dinner. In fact, he was playing solitaire at the kitchen counter. He looked up, surprised, as the door clicked open.

James looked at him, jaw clenched, betrayed, and then immediately started going through his things.

“What are you _doing?”_ Clover exclaimed, as James tore through his dresser drawers.

James slammed a drawer shut, turning to him. “I just spoke with Dr. Marsh. She tells me that your hormone levels indicate a recent _spike_ in suppressant use.”

The color drained from his face. James stalked over to him. “Where are you hiding them?”

Clover took a step back, his hands out, placating. “Okay, there’s…a good explanation. Actually, it’s kind of funny.”

“Clover,” James growled. “Where?”

He closed his eyes, sighing. “Box in the bedside table. In…my bandanna.”

James pushed past him, bumping his shoulder as he moved into the bedroom. Clover breathed, trying to quell the panic in his chest, before following.

When he entered the room, he saw the contents of his little box of treasures upended on the bed, everything he ever cared about on display like salvage to be picked through and discarded. His mother’s pin had tumbled off the side and was lying on the floor. James unfolded the bandanna, picked out the pill, then removed his glove and crushed the pill between his metal fingers. Clover’s breath caught in his throat.

“Is that all?” James said. He dropped the bandanna back onto the bed. Just more trash.

“Yes,” Clover said, fighting back tears.

“Are. You. Sure.”

Clover gritted his teeth, feeling long-repressed anger build. “Yes, sir.” he spat.

“Do you think this is some kind of joke– “

James cut himself off, eyes drawn to the scattered mementos on the bed. He reached down, picking up the feather. “Where did you get this?”

“Where do you think?” Clover snapped. “A bird.”

“You didn’t have this when you came here.”

Clover gestured to the window. “There are birds outside! We don’t live in a bubble, James. This bird that steals my breakfast every day dropped it on the balcony!”

“A crow?”

“What?”

“Was it a crow?

“Why does it matter?” Clover ran a hand through his hair. How were they even having this conversation? “Yes, it’s a crow, are you happy?”

James turned away, his expression grim. “You are _not_ to go out on the balcony any more. I’ll have someone come tomorrow and put locks on the door.”

Clover stared, bewildered. “Are you…are you seriously jealous of a bird?”

A wave of anger, thus far kept in check, rolled through him. He clenched his fists. “I am here for _twelve hours a day_ , James, with _no one_ to talk to. You don’t want me to have a pet? Fine! I want to see my cousins! I want to see my team! I want to see anything other than the same four walls of this _fucking apartment!_ But no, I can’t even get a little fresh air, now, because _you_ are too insecure to handle the fact that I talk to a _fucking bird!”_

“Not any bird. A _crow_.” James said, voice dangerously low.

“What the fuck does it matter what kind of a _bird_ it is?!” Clover shouted, exasperated.

James held the feather up. “A _crow_ comes to visit you every day. A _crow_ gave you this feather.” He laughed, mockingly. “I suppose a crow also brought you suppressants?”

Clover hesitated, silent. That was…hard to explain.

James’s eyes widened. He cursed, banging his hand on the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. Clover flinched at the impact. The alpha stalked over to the window, glaring out into the sky as if the offending crow were there now. “I should have known he was still in Atlas,” he muttered.

Clover furrowed his brow, confused. Before he could ask anything, James spun around. He looked furious. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

The anger drained from him, replaced with a slow feeling of dread.

“I really don’t,” Clover said, keeping his voice soft. James was advancing on him, every bit the alpha stalking his prey. It was all he could do not to shrink back under the intense stare.

“I’ve tried to be patient with you, Clover, but that patience has its limits.”

Clover backed up until he hit the wall, trapped, boxed in by the alpha. The pheromones coming off of him were overwhelming, this close. James gripped his chin, forcing Clover to meet his gaze. Cold blue eyes pinned him in place. “You are _mine_. I will not tolerate any further tests of your loyalty. Understood?”

Clover swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. If your heat doesn’t come by the end of the week, I’m having the doctor induce it.”

“Yes, sir.”

James caught his mouth in a claiming kiss, his metal arm curling around Clover and pulling his body in close. Clover gasped at the contact, James pressing the advantage to thrust his tongue inside. It was all he could do to grip at James’s shoulders, trying to hold on as his knees went weak and James surged forward, gripping him by the hair and tilting his head back, exposing his neck.

The alpha broke the kiss and moved to his neck, inhaling deeply and dragging his teeth against the sensitive skin. Clover _yelped,_ trying to pull away, but James held him still, licking and lightly biting where his scent was strongest. It wasn’t enough to form a bonding mark, but tomorrow there would be bruises. All the while, panic coursed through Clover’s head, alarm bells wailing over the swell of instinctual arousal.

Finally, James released him, stepping back. Clover swayed, grabbing the wall for support.

“I’ll be in my office,” James said. “Don’t bother waiting up.”

Only when the office door swung shut did Clover let out the breath he’d been holding. He sunk to the floor, hugging his knees, his whole body shaking. His heart hammered in his chest, and there was a wetness between his thighs. His mind went around and around, trying to process what had just happened.

What the _Gods’ name_ what that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ME: James, sorry my dude, I made the best case for you that I could in this situation. I promise I'll get around to writing your redemption fic someday. 
> 
> IRONWOOD: That's General to you. *shoots me in the face*


	6. Informed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James tries to make amends. Clover and Winter do "Who's on first?"

His cousin Cedar tried to warn him once, a long time ago. He’d been visiting from Argus, just a little weekend trip with his family before baby number two arrived. They were wandering around the Academy, swapping stories and reliving their glory days. Val had retired to the hotel already, tired of their in-jokes and eager to escape parenting duties for a few hours. Little Bianca had been enjoying their tour around the courtyard until she wasn’t, but she was content to pass out so long as _Clover_ and _only Uncle Clover_ carried her around.

For as rarely as he got to see her, she’d attached to him surprisingly fiercely. Clover sometimes wondered if there was an inherent quality about his dynamic that others could sense about him, but that only children were honest enough to express. Usually he found it worrying, his father’s disapproving face in his head. In this instance, though, it meant he had a niece who trusted him, even if he didn’t really deserve it. Selfishly, it made him happy.

It was there in the courtyard that they ran into James. Bianca was well settled, head pillowed on his left shoulder, while Cedar pushed the empty stroller. His hands full, it was Cedar who waved the General over. James smiled as he approached.

“Major Ebi, good to see you. Here visiting Clover, I presume?”

Cedar smiled as they shook hands, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “General Ironwood, always a pleasure. Yes, we’re trying to see as much family as possible before we go back into baby mode.” He indicated Bianca with his head. “This one is handful enough, it’s kind of terrifying to imagine what it’ll be like with two.”

“Well, you seem to have a pretty good handle on her at the moment,” James said, his eyes lingering a bit too long on the sight of Clover holding the sleeping toddler. To Cedar, he said, “Congratulations, Clover didn’t tell me you two were expecting again.”

Clover coughed, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Sorry, sir, I must not have mentioned it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cedar said. “Should be just a few weeks, now.”

“I don’t recall you requesting any time off, Clover.” James said, frowning.

“It’s just been so busy lately, I was waiting to see if it might slow down. It’s no problem, sir. I don’t want to leave the Ace Ops in a lurch.”

“Nonsense,” James said. “You should be able to see your family. I’m sure we can spare you for a couple of days. It’s not like Argus is far.”

Cedar butted in, ganging up on him. “That’s what I said, sir. He works too much, if you ask me.”

“Says the pencil-pusher,” Clover shot back, glaring.

“Says the man who wants you bring him lasagna and watch his kids while he sleeps.”

James laughed. “That does it, then. It’s an order. Consider this a mission, if it helps.”

“I…” Clover sputtered. “Er. Thank you, sir. I…that’s very kind.”

“You’ve earned it,” James said, giving Clover a look that did strange things to his heart. James turned to Cedar. “You’ll let me know when you need him?”

“Of course,” Cedar said, casting suspicious glances between the two of them. “As much as I’d like to catch up, sir, we should probably get Bianca to bed.”

“I’ll let you get to it, then,” James said, turning to leave. “Enjoy the rest of your visit, Major. And give Val my regards. Clover, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir. Have a good night.”

After James had gone, Cedar turned and leveled him with a look.

“Shrimp, _no._ ”

Bianca squirmed in her sleep and he shifted her on his hip, hoisting her into a more secure position. When she started snoring again he looked to his cousin. “What?” he said.

“I know you and I know that look on your face and I’m telling you right now, no _._ Do not.”

“I didn’t do anything!” he protested.

“Good. Keep it that way. And if _he_ tries to start something, report his ass. He is your _commanding officer._ That is about eight different levels of inappropriate, including but not limited to the _thing_. _”_ Cedar said, sighing _._ “You know what the consequences will be if this goes bad, Clover. I can’t save you from the law.”

Clover winced at the use of his actual name. Cedar was serious.

“You won’t have to. Trust me, James is _not_ like that. He’s in favor of omega reform, he just needs to get the rest of the Council on board.”

Clover realized his mistake a second too late. 

“ _James?_ ”

It came out louder than intended, and both men paused to make sure Bianca was still sleeping. Clover sent a little wish to his semblance, not that it had stopped him from sticking his foot in his mouth. The toddler’s eyes stayed closed, her breath a soft huff against Clover’s shoulder. “If she wakes up it’s not gonna be my fault,” Clover murmured, accusingly.

Cedar shook his head. “Don’t deflect on me, Shrimp. Spill it.”

Clover looked at the ground. “He…might already know. About the thing.”

“And how,” Cedar ground out, “would he know?”

“There was…an incident. We were on a mission. And, well. You know how it goes, when you’re trying out a new scent blocker. Actually, it’s kind of a funny story…”

He trailed off as his cousin took a deep breath and sent a pleading look to the skies. Cedar turned and paced a circle around the courtyard, hand to his temple, as if he were walking off an injury. As he came back around, Clover gave him an apologetic smile. Cedar opened his mouth to speak, paused, then turned to take another lap, shaking his head and mumbling the whole time. It was just as well; the story wasn’t really that funny. In fact, it was fairly unfunny.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid. You stupid, dumb, big dumb big idiot.”

Clover shrugged with his free shoulder, sheepish. “I know.”

“Did he…” Cedar furrowed his brow and gripped Clover’s elbow. “Did he take advantage of you?”

Clover flushed. “No! It wasn’t, uh, that kind of incident. Just an embarrassing one.”

His cousin sighed, rubbing his temple again. “Good. At least I won’t be Court Martialed for assaulting a superior officer.”

There was a pause, then they both chuckled, the tension breaking. Cedar reached up, ruffling his hair fondly. Clover made a face, unable to retaliate with Bianca in his arms.

“Hey, Shrimp? What I said goes double, by the way. _Do not_ start something with your CO. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I won’t,” Clover said.

“Besides, he’s too old for you. And too serious. And too controlling. And too–”

Clover rolled his eyes. “Ugh, you’re worse than Faye. Fine, I’ll die celibate and alone.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

Clover laughed. They teased each other the whole walk home.

That was almost five years ago. He’d been so naïve.

Clover hadn’t seen a single member of his family since they’d closed the borders. As he laid in bed the morning after the fight with James, pretending to sleep through the alarm and afraid to move until the door clicked shut, he wondered if anyone had even told them. If someone was holding their letters at the border. If the gossip had made its way to the Argus base. If they even knew anything, out in Vacuo, about Salem’s attack.

They were so isolated, in their little city in the sky.

Clover didn’t bother eating breakfast that day. 

* * *

It was a testament to Winter Schnee’s unending dedication and loyalty that he was ever even allowed to see her again. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been expecting her, or anyone else, and therefore it wasn’t a particularly pleasant picture she walked in on.

“Clover? Oh, Gods.”

Nothing bad had happened. He was just in bed, is all. At 1400. Where he had been all day. So he understood why she might have maybe thought he was dead for a little while.

“It’s fine, I’m okay,” he said, sitting up and scrubbing at his puffy eyes. Winter had a hand to her heart, shaken. She must have seen the bruises when she went to check his pulse. “Does James know you’re here?”

She averted her gaze. “I’m…just supposed to check on you. I can’t stay long.”

A spike of fear ran through him. “Okay, let’s get you out, then. Job’s done.”

He went to stand and swayed, dangerously. Winter was a head shorter than him but she managed to safely ease him back down to the bed. “When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

“I had lunch,” he said. “Uh, yesterday.”

Winter cursed. Clover furrowed his brow. He’d never heard such a thing from her. She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, then returned with a bowl of cereal.

“I will forego healthy for the sake of speed,” she said. Clover took the cereal.

Winter sighed, sitting down on the bed next to him while he ate. Eventually, she said, “Qrow mentioned you hadn’t been eating.”

He blinked, confused. “Winter, I haven’t seen Qrow since…” Since the transport incident. “…what has it been, three weeks?” he finished, pushing that thought away.

“But you’ve seen the bird form.”

“What?”

“The bird, the little crow. Weiss said he’s been checking up on you.”

Weiss was talking to…Crow? _His_ Crow?

“I’m sorry, what? Weiss knows Crow? And he…talked to her? How is that possible?”

Clover’s head ached. Why was everybody obsessed with this bird? Was the bird some kind of notorious criminal? Something fundamental was refusing to compute, his mind a wash of static.

Winter frowned, looking deeply concerned for him. “They’re all staying together. Of course, they know each other. I’ve literally seen you in the same room as both of them.”

“Crow and Weiss.”

“Yes.”

“That’s impossible.”

She felt his forehead. “Are you hurt? Do you think you’re going into heat?”

He sighed, exhausted. “No, Crow brought me a suppressant. That’s what triggered this whole thing. I know, it sounds crazy. On both ends.”

“Not in the slightest, actually,” she said. Which was…okay, sure. Winter had a better imagination than him, apparently.

Winter took a deep breath, shaking her head. “You know how I feel about him. But much as it pains me to admit it, we…do agree on one thing. The treatment of omegas in Atlas is inhumane. When I found out about this whole…arrangement with you and the General, I was skeptical but I hoped you would be in good hands. Plus, it wasn’t my place to interfere in your personal life.”

She looked up at him, guilt and regret in her bright eyes. “I just hope I haven’t encouraged you to stay in an unsustainable situation.”

Clover gave her a sad smile. “You haven’t. I agreed to this. And anyway, it’ll get better, once we…”

He trailed off. _Once we’re mated._ Because all of their problems were because of him, weren’t they? If he hadn’t taken the suppressant, if he’d just accepted his fate and let his lawful alpha bond him, then James wouldn’t have gotten so mad, right?

He cleared his throat, changing the subject. “You’d better go. If James was this jealous over a pet bird, I can only imagine what he’d say if he heard this conversation.”

Winter gave him a strange look. “Clover. It’s not just a bird. The bird is Qrow. Qrow _Branwen._ ”

Clover blinked.

“Qrow…Branwen? _My_ Qrow?”

And okay, _that_ wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Winter let it slide. “Yes, that Qrow.”

“Qrow…is Crow?” he shook his head, then winced at the stab of pain that caused. “Sorry. I mean, Qrow, the human, is also Crow, the bird?”

Winter nodded. “Qrow can turn into a bird. A crow. It’s a little on the nose, if you ask me. Apparently, Ozpin gave him the ability years ago. Did you not know this?”

A pause.

“Everybody knows this?”

“Weiss told me, so I assume all of team RWBY knows. And JNR. And Oscar Pine. And possibly Penny and Dr. Polendina. And that Maria woman, whoever she is.”

Clover swallowed.

“James knows this?”

“Almost certainly.”

The last 24 hours suddenly made a lot more sense.

He buried his head in his hands, groaning. “I’m too stupid to live.”

In a rare show of affection, Winter gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat. “It’s pretty far-fetched, to be fair. Qrow’s been passing messages between me and Weiss since the Battle of Mantle. I thought he must have told you himself. Is that what happened with General Ironwood? You had a fight about Qrow?”

He nodded, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Winter gave him a curious look.

“You…thought a regular bird brought you a suppressant?”

“It could have been my semblance!”

He flopped back onto the bed and crossed his arms over his eyes, trying to process what he’d just learned. One thing was sticking out.

“Why is Qrow bringing you messages from Weiss? Can’t you just call her?”

“Clover…the warrants are still active. They’re fugitives.”

Clover opened his eyes, moving his arms aside. Winter was looking back at him, her expression somber. “What? James told me…”

Winter shook her head. “Robyn’s been trying to get the General to revoke them, but it’s a military matter. Her hands are tied.”

“Oh, Winter…I’m so sorry.”

Winter let out a deep breath, then laid down on the bed next to him. Her warm shoulder bumped against his as she stared at the ceiling, her hands folded over her stomach. He’d never seen her so undone before.

“It’s worse than I thought out there, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It’s bad,” she said, sounding much older than her years. “What will you do?”

Clover sighed. “I don’t know. What about you?”

Winter stared, silent, for a long time.

“I don’t know, either.”

* * *

Winter made him eat an apple before she left, with promises that _‘This, I can fix.’_ Since then he’d been sitting on the couch, a book in his lap, rereading the same sentence over and over again, and turning over the last several weeks of interactions with, apparently, Qrow Branwen himself.

James seemed truly contrite when he came home later. Winter obviously hadn’t told him the details–namely, that _she_ was in contact with both Qrow _and_ Weiss–but something of his miserable condition must have translated. The sun was just going down when the alpha came in with flowers and takeout, his metaphorical tail between his legs.

“It’s come to my attention that I may have…overreacted last night.” James said, kneeling at his side. “I took the liberty of pulling up your scroll activity.”

Clover watched, numb, from the couch, curled in on himself in a facsimile of their first night together. James swiped his scroll and the display flicked up onto the screen in front of them.

**_SEARCH HISTORY: LAST 30 DAYS_ **

**_crow identification_ **

**_are there crows in atlas_ **

**_do crows eat egg_ **

**_crow social behavior_ **

**_can crows eat seed_ **

**_crow diet_ **

**_what can you feed pet crow_ **

**_do crows make friends with humans_ **

****

Clover stared. “Kind of makes me look like an idiot, doesn’t it.”

“Nevertheless,” James sighed. “I realize you may not have known the identity of your…bird friend.”

He tried to act surprised as James told him about Qrow’s ability to turn into a bird, unaware that Winter had already spilled the beans. Apparently, _everybody_ assumed that that he and Qrow were so thick as thieves that he would know all of Qrow’s secrets, already. Clover had only known the man for six weeks, but even _he_ knew that anyone who thought Qrow was that open about his life didn’t actually know Qrow at all.

Though Qrow now knew a good deal of _his_ innermost thoughts, which was a little alarming. His “bird friend” had given him more emotional support over the last few weeks than his actual alpha. But why hadn’t Qrow _told_ him? Why let him humiliate himself like that?

Who could he even trust, anymore? The decision loomed in his head.

“I’m so sorry, Clover,” James said, resting his head in Clover’s lap. Clover turned his attention back to the alpha. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. And I’m sorry I scared you. I won’t… _we_ won’t induce your heat, we can take as long as you need, all right?”

James looked up at him, pleading.

Clover kept remembering the coldness in those blue eyes, the previous night. In all the time they’d known each other, in nearly a decade, he’d never seen James like that. Even when he was making tough decisions, James had always grappled with his emotions. It was like he was a completely different person than the man Clover knew.

He looked away. “Can I go outside?” he said, his voice flat.

There was a deep sigh. “It’s Qrow I don’t trust, Clover, not you. I still don’t want you out on the balcony, at least for now. And you should be careful about leaving any windows open. You know what he’s capable of, if he got in here.”

James pressed a kiss to his thigh. “Once we’re bonded, he won’t be able to take you from me,” he murmured, voice muffled by the soft fabric.

Well. That was that.

James was extra doting that night. Over dinner, he told Clover all about the Ace Ops recruitment process, who they were looking at and what the team (minus Marrow) was up to. Clover picked at his food, which tasted like nothing, adrift as he listened. Later, James made him a mug of his favorite tea. He sipped at it on the couch while he tried to read, spooned up at James’s side, the alpha peppering him with small kisses and touches and words of praise. As soon as he felt he could, Clover announced that he was feeling tired and wanted to go to sleep, which was true: he was and he did. James followed soon after, though he obviously wasn’t tired at all.

Except Clover couldn’t sleep. Not long after James joined him, his warm weight on the bed beside him but respectfully not touching, Clover rolled over.

“James,” he said, softly, pressing his hand to the other’s chest. “Are you awake?”

James opened his eyes. He was lying on his side, facing Clover. The moon was full that night, and the pale white light shone through the window to illuminate the other man’s face. Clover studied his expression, trying to square the peaceful man before him with the cold monster of the night before.

With his hand he _pushed_ , gently, leaning forward as James rolled onto his back. James let out a huff of surprise, an aborted question silenced by Clover’s soft “Shhh.”

Clover moved his hand to the bed beside James, pushing himself up and _over_ , bringing his leg up to straddle James’s hips. The other man inhaled sharply. As Clover settled on top on him, sitting up, James brought his hands to Clover’s thighs. Clover caught them, pushing him back and curling forward so that James’s wrists were braced against the mattress. “Don’t,” he warned. “You haven’t earned it.”

“Clover…”

James didn’t resist, waiting. Clover eased off his hold, lowering himself down until he was practically lying on top of the alpha. He leaned in as close as he dared, until their foreheads were almost touching, and cupped James’s face with his hands. It was shockingly intimate. Clover could feel every shaky breath from the man beneath him, every erratic beat of his heart. He could feel him start to grow hard under his hips. Clover pulled back enough to stare into James’s eyes, searching. They were wide, pupils blown in the darkness of the room.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

James breathed out, slowly. “Of course I do.”

Clover brushed the hair back from James’s face, fingers trailing through the silver at his temples. He closed his eyes and inhaled, taking in the deep alpha scent. He thought of the cocky 24-year-old he’d been when they met, star-struck by the living legend. The elite operative at 27, proud to come to work for the man he admired. The wreck at 28, James by his side at his father’s funeral. Secretly pining at 29. Heartbroken by 31. Resigned at 33. And now here, ten years later, still caught in the orbit of those blue eyes.

Clover opened his eyes. “Is there _anything else_ you want to tell me?”

“I…” James trailed off, uncomprehending. The silence stretched on.

Clover took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. He leaned down, his lips barely touching James’s forehead in a tender kiss. “Good night.”

It should have been easier, the second time around, to learn the same lesson. Clover pushed himself up, away, back to his side of the bed. He rolled over and slept like the dead.

* * *

Clover felt a bit better in the morning. The situation with James was still…fragile, but at least now he knew what he was up against. He ate his breakfast sitting cross-legged in front of the balcony doors, the past few days of poor eating habits finally catching up with him.

He needed to be on top of his game. And he needed a plan.

The lock on the balcony doors was sound, there was no picking it. But at least it was physical, not electronic like the lock on the front door. There would be no alarm if he broke it. So he could hit it with something heavy, or he could find something to cut it, or he could just break the glass. _That_ might sound an alarm, though. He would have to move fast. And it might not work. Clover was plenty strong, but the doors were thick double-paned glass, meant to withstand the high winds of Atlas. Which would be easier to crack, the lock or the door?

Then there was the drop. James’s apartment was ten floors up, not unlike the jump from a transport. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what was under the balcony. Nobody lived below them, perks of being a headmaster, so there were no other balconies to jump to, but there was a steep slope to the building that he might be able to slide down. Of course, it would be a cinch with Kingfisher.

Ah. The desk. _That_ lock he might be able to pick. Then he could use Kingfisher to break the balcony lock, open the door, and swing down to the courtyard. He rolled his back, stretching. He was a little rusty, after not fighting for nearly a month. But with a little luck he could make it.

He let out a breath, feeling more like himself than he had since he’d first walked in the door.

When would be the best time to do it? He couldn’t do it at night, obviously, without waking James. So it had to be during the day, when there was a much higher chance of being spotted. James’s office was on the same side of the building as the apartment, just further up the tower. He racked his brain, trying to think of James’s schedule. If James was out in the courtyard, or standing at his window, he’d be fucked right away. So it would be best if he were _in_ the building, preferably somewhere deep in the interior. But he also needed to pick a time when there would be as few people in the courtyard as possible. Early mornings might work, but there were plenty of early-rising overachievers who might be out exercising, which he knew because he _was_ one, and they’d definitely notice any break from the ordinary. Plus, James would certainly be in his office for the first hour of his day. But it had to be in the morning, because Winter usually came in the afternoon.

An uneasy thought occurred to him. He could simply wait for Winter to enter, overpower her, and leave through the front door. But as soon as the plan formed in his mind he dismissed it, feeling sick. He couldn’t sink that low. Likewise, with trying to coerce her into helping him. Winter had her own decisions to make; he couldn’t try to sway her on his behalf. If she helped him she’d be putting her _own_ career, and maybe her safety, at risk. He wouldn’t do that to her, or to any of the Ace Ops for that matter.

Wait. The Ace-Ops recruits. Last night, James had said he’d be checking out some candidates tomorrow at 1100. Which meant James and _all of the Ace Ops_ would be in a training room, deep in the building on the other side of campus. Classes would be in session until 1200. All the students and faculty should be inside. There was nothing he could do about windows, or other staff, but that was true at any time of day. He’d need to lean on his semblance for that, too.

The really hard part, as he saw it, would be sneaking into a transport for Mantle. But people were usually trying to sneak _in_ to Atlas, not out. Maybe he could–

There was a ding, from behind him.

Clover turned, startled. It was the sound of the dumbwaiter, where deliveries came in. Except he hadn’t asked for anything. Maybe James, still feeling guilty, had sent something up? Frowning, he stood and walked to the panel in the kitchen wall, pulling the metal door open.

There, in the dumbwaiter, was Crow. Or rather, Qrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clover regrets his naming decision very much. Also, yes Clover's cousin calls him "Shrimp," and no he is not taller than Clover.


	7. Plotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qrow spells it out. The Braintrust holds its inaugural meeting.

Clover stared.

Qrow squawked.

Clover shut the door.

There was a series of muffled squawks from the dumbwaiter. Clover sighed and opened the door again. The bird inside ruffled its feathers, innocently. Clover glared.

“I know you’re you, Qrow. Qrow like…Qrow, not Crow, the crow.”

Qrow gave him a look like he was the biggest idiot to have ever existed. Clover threw up his hands, sighing.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come on out and talk to me.”

Qrow ruffled his feathers again, then started to walk out onto the counter in his stupid adorable bird-walk. A thought occurred to Clover and he froze, fear washing over him. “Wait! You have to stay a crow. He’ll smell you.”

Qrow cocked his head, skeptical. Clover held a hand out in warning. “I swear to the Brothers, Qrow, the man has a nose like a faunus. There is absolutely no way he is not going to know that another alpha was in his house. Especially _you_.”

He ran a hand through his hair, distressed.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here, you know?”

Qrow didn’t move from the dumbwaiter. Clover paced across the tiles.

“What was this, some kind of joke? To come and see me like this? You’re so convinced I only do what I’m told. Well, congratulations, Qrow, you were right.”

Clover kicked at the base of the kitchen island, frustrated. Qrow flew into the room then, trying to land on his shoulder. Clover batted him away, and he touched down on the counter instead.

“Stop,” he said. “I told you I didn’t need your pity.”

Qrow squawked and flapped his wings, protesting.

“If it’s not pity, then what?”

Qrow stared at him for a second, then fluffed up his feathers. He made a strange rattling sound, one Clover had never heard him make before, then bowed several times. When he finished, he looked…almost embarrassed?

Clover stared, confused. “Okay, there has got to be a better way of doing this.”

He cast his eyes around the apartment, searching. Finally, he zeroed in on the top of the bookshelf, where his sparse collection of board games had been stored. “Ha!” he called out, jogging into the living room. “Check this out!”

Qrow followed, swooping into the room as Clover pulled the top box off the shelf. He opened the lid, retrieving the cloth bag inside and discarding the rest of the game. Settling on the floor, he upended the contents of the bag onto the coffee table, where Qrow was standing.

Square tiles marked with letters poured out, clacking on the glass of the table.

Clover couldn’t help the shit-eating grin from forming on his face, feeling immensely clever. Qrow glared at him, then pushed a few of the tiles around.

_STUPID_

“Oh, come on,” Clover said, teasing. “No one ever wants to play this game with me.”

That wasn’t strictly true. He’d played it with Winter just the other day. It turned out to be more interesting than cards; he was lucky in pulling tiles, but she had the vastly better vocabulary.

Qrow ruffled his feathers, resigned.

_FINE_

“Great! Now we can actually talk. Sort of.”

They stared at each other for a minute, their gazes level with Clover on the floor and Qrow on the table. Eventually Clover realized Qrow was waiting for him to speak. His bubble of excitement deflated somewhat, as the reality of the last few weeks set in. He eventually sighed, going for the question that had plagued him all day.

“Why let me think you were a bird? Why didn’t you just _say_ that you were _you?”_

Qrow stared at him a minute, then rearranged the tiles. 

_MY FAULT_

Clover blinked. “What was your fault?”

_TRANSPORT_

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, Qrow…you know that’s not…I don’t blame you. And I don’t see how it could possibly be your fault.”

Qrow gave him a challenging glare.

_BAD LUCK_

Clover sighed. He thought of the little wish he’d made, right before everything turned for the worse. Qrow’s semblance could have canceled it out, it was certainly possible. But would that have changed anything? Probably not, now that he thought about it. There was no accounting for Tyrian Callows.

“I wouldn’t call it luck, just skill. Or the lack thereof, on my part. Qrow, if anyone’s at fault, it’s me. I got sloppy, and I made a bad call.”

There was silence for a bit.

_SORRY_

“You’re sorry…for how you reacted?”

Qrow bobbed his head.

_TYRIAN_

“Oh,” Clover said. That part…kind of _was_ Qrow’s fault. And it wasn’t something that either of them could chalk up to luck. He didn’t really want to think about that part too hard, honestly.

He grinned, playing it off. “Well, I’m not. If that hadn’t happened I never would have had the chance to kiss you.”

Qrow ruffled his feathers, looking embarrassed again. He really was adorable.

“Look,” Clover said, granting him mercy. “I’ve been keeping this secret since I started at the Academy. I knew what the consequences would be if people found out. You think this was my first close call?”

Qrow ducked his head, training his eyes on the coffee table.

“And I’m not saying that to try to make you feel bad. It was a risk, I’ve always known it was a risk. And if I was gonna pick a way to go out…it could have gone down a lot worse, is all I’m saying.”

Qrow squawked, poking at the tiles and then giving him a significant look.

_JAMES_

Clover inhaled slowly. Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. “It’s…complicated.”

Qrow just cocked his head, waiting. He took a few deep breaths.

“I’ve known James for…ten years, probably. At first it was just professional. I looked up to him–he was something of a mentor to me when I was coming up–and eventually he recruited me for the Ace Ops. We…got a lot closer, after that.

“One time, James and I were on a recon mission together. We thought there was a nest of Grimm that had set up near one of the eastern roads. It was just me and Elm back then, kind of a pilot project for what the Ace Ops are now. James shouldn’t even have been there, but Elm came down with the flu, and it was supposed to be a cakewalk anyway, so James came with me as backup. Of course, it took a bad turn, and we barely made it out alive.

“James…wasn’t doing so well. We were both low on aura, but he was in a lot worse shape, and he was having trouble controlling his prosthetics in the cold. I had to practically carry him back to the airship. Of course, genius that I am, that was also the day I decided to try a new type of scent blocker. With the close proximity, and without my semblance helping me out…he could tell the difference.”

Clover shook his head, laughing bitterly. “Speaking of dumb mistakes, on my part. That should have ended my career, but James…he never told anyone.”

He closed his eyes, remembering the intense debrief after that mission. He was so sure that would be it, that he would be led out in cuffs. The only thing he was dreading more than the General’s reprimand was his father’s reaction.

_“That will be all, Ebi. Dismissed. Get some rest, okay?”_

_Clover’s head snapped up. That was it? No soldiers? He wasn’t under arrest?_

_He hesitated a bit, then saluted. “Thank you, General.”_

_The General gave him a little smile. “Please, Clover. I’d think you could call me James at this point. At least in private.”_

_Clover flushed. “Yes, sir. Er, James.”_

_The name felt strange in his mouth, but not in a bad way. More exciting, like this was the start of something big._

_The General–James–chuckled, his eyes bright with mirth. “You’re welcome, by the way. I hope you know how much I value you, Clover. I’m not ready to throw that away for some outdated societal convention.”_

_“I appreciate that, sir,” Clover said. “I won’t disappoint you.”_

_“Good,” James said. “Just be careful out there, and I swear I’ll do my best to protect you.”_

He gave Qrow a small smile, opening his eyes. “I guess I fell in love with him, after that.”

Qrow hopped back, looking away. Clover sighed. “Hey, let me finish, okay?”

The bird stilled, turning a weary red eye on him.

“The thing is,” Clover continued, “He never loved me back. Or at least, not like I wanted him to. I…asked him to share my heat, once.”

He flushed, the old embarrassment creeping up his skin. Qrow frantically arranged the tiles, then looked up, questioning.

_HE HURT YOU_

“Just my pride,” Clover said, giving him a shaky smile. Qrow nudged his hand, comforting. “The suppressant I used to take works better when you take breaks between courses. I’ve done it alone but it’s…” he winced. “Pretty rough. And I thought there was something there, with James.”

“He agreed to help me. And to be fair, he was…very kind, during, which is more than I can say for most other times I’ve tried to have a heat. But after, he said it would just be a one-time thing. That we couldn’t get distracted when the stakes were so high. This was…before he told us all about Salem. We were at peace; I didn’t even know what he meant. I figured he just didn’t want me that way.

“He got more and more distant after that, especially after Beacon. I moved on. Or at least, I stopped expecting more from him. He still kept my secret, and he still needed me as a soldier. And he was still my friend.

“That’s why I thought, at first, with…this,” he gestured around him, “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Eventually I figured out that it wasn’t that he didn’t want me, back then. He still wanted me, he just thought I was more useful to him in uniform than in his bed.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so stupid in my life.”

Clover stared into the distance, lost in thought. He felt the nudge of a beak at his hand, and he looked down.

_NOT STUPID_

Qrow hopped onto his shoulder. He nuzzled his head against Clover’s cheek, cooing softly. When he pulled back, his beak was wet. Clover scrubbed at his face, surprised. He was crying. Again.

He gave a little laugh, sniffling and wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry, I keep doing this in front of you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Qrow hopped down, pointed to the word he'd just spelled, then walked to an earlier one and pointed at that.

_NOT SORRY_

There were a million things Clover wanted to say to that. The little game he used to play, back before, was to try and feed Qrow as many compliments as he could, talking him into corners until he had to accept them. He was a tough nut to crack, always ready with one reason or another why his actions were _not_ caring, or brave, or noble, or whatever. But when Clover scored a hit, when Qrow would blush and look away and rub the back of his head in wonder, it would make his day. Still, those compliments were all about things Qrow did for _other_ people. They’d never been so personal, before. Now, knowing it was _Qrow_ who’d been his lifeline, the words caught in his throat, still too close to mention.

So instead, he leaned forward, rested his chin on his arms, and said, “You’re really something, you know that, Qrow?”

Qrow looked down, grooming his wing to hide his face.

Close enough.

“Hey,” Clover said, “You wanna get out of here?”

* * *

He filled Qrow in on his plan, as it currently stood. “The biggest thing is he can’t be in his office; it has a panoramic view of the campus. He’ll definitely notice if he sees me swinging around the courtyard.”

Qrow considered the proposal, then moved to the tiles. He shuffled a few around while Clover waited, watching each letter play in turn.

_D-A-N-G-E –_

The sound of clacking tiles was interrupted by four beeps from the front door. Was that…

It was the sound of the code being entered.

Clover acted on instinct, grabbing Qrow and shoving him behind his back. The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

In the doorway stood Winter, carrying a white paper bag.

Clover blinked. Relief flooded through his body. Winter took in the sight of him: sitting on the floor in front of the couch, hair mussed, in the same clothes he’d slept in, wide eyes red from crying and a mess of tiles spread before him on the table. Behind his back, Qrow struggled. He held the bird still, trying to preserve at least some level of deniability for Winter.

Winter shut the door behind her. “Where’s Qrow?” she asked bluntly.

Qrow bit him.

Clover yelped, pulling his hand back, and Qrow squawked as he waddled out and flew back up onto the coffee table.

Winter acknowledged him with a tilt of her head. “Qrow,” she said.

Clover looked back and forth between the them. “Are you two…working together?”

It would have been a ridiculous concept even disregarding the context. Winter was too much of a professional to roll her eyes, but the withering looks she gave both him and Qrow were enough.

To him, she said, “We are now. Who do you think put him in the dumbwaiter?” To Qrow, “Why are you still a bird?”

Qrow squawked, indicating the word ‘ _JAMES’,_ which was still on the table.

“He’ll know Qrow was here,” Clover explained. “As soon as he walks in the door he’ll be able to smell the difference.”

A realization set in as he processed her first question, and he smacked his forehead with his hand, “Just like he’s going to know you were here, once he checks the logs on the door.”

“Relax,” Winter said, smiling one of her small private smiles. “He knows. I had a…family engagement later today, as it so happens. I asked the General if it was all right for me to bring you breakfast instead of doing my normal visit. He agreed right away. In fact, he told me to stay as long as I liked. Apparently, he was quite concerned about you catching a chill.”

So Winter was the muscle, sent to protect him from dangerous birds and open windows. He glanced at Qrow, who was picking at the tiles again.

_EAT_

Winter nodded, placing the bag on the table. “He’s right. Did you eat?”

Great, now there were two of them. Clover pointed to the empty bowl and coffee cup on the floor in front of the balcony, remnants of his breakfast. “Sorry about the mess,” he said, genuinely embarrassed.

Winter gave him a strange look. “Do you have some kind of problem with chairs?”

Clover shrugged. He hadn’t left the house in three weeks. He had a problem with _these_ chairs, at least.

“Thank you both for your concern, but as a matter of fact, I did eat already. And no, that is not an invitation for either of you to pester me with more–oh gods, is that what I think it is?”

Winter was unloading the bag, which had a distinct grease stain on the bottom. The logo of his favorite bakery in Atlas was stamped in red on the front. “Do you want chocolate, almond or plain?”

“Chocolate,” he said automatically, scrambling up. “I’ll make more coffee.”

He returned with plates and two steaming mugs. After a moment of consideration, he also brought over a handful of blueberries and a dish of water for Qrow. “Sorry Qrow, you can’t eat this. It’s bad for your stomach.”

Qrow glared as Clover picked up a perfect chocolate croissant, admiring its burnished exterior before taking a bite. The pastry made a satisfying crinkle as he bit down, and the taste of bitter chocolate and sweet, mildly fermented wheat filled his mouth. This was heaven. He made a noise that would be considered illegal in at least two kingdoms as he licked the stray, buttery flakes from his fingers. Going in for another bite, he happened to glance up at Qrow.

Qrow was staring at him, completely ignoring the berries.

Clover’s eyes widened as he noticed the attention. He abruptly dropped his hand from his mouth, blushing fiercely. Qrow turned away, dipping his beak in the water, though Clover was pretty sure he wasn’t actually drinking. It was stupid; he’d never felt like he was flirting with _Crow_. He wasn’t used to censoring himself around the bird. An irrational sadness caught him as he realized that he’d never see his “bird friend” again.

Winter was delicately tearing at her plain croissant, oblivious to the scene before her. “I don’t see what the problem is with him transforming. Clover, you can’t seriously be thinking of staying?”

“I’m not,” he said, glad to have a distraction. He turned his attention back to her. For the second time that morning, he explained his plan. Winter frowned as he talked.

“…What I was just telling Qrow, before you came in, is I haven’t yet figured out the transport to Mantle,” he said, finishing. “But maybe since you two are here, you can help me brainstorm. Any ideas?”

“Here’s one,” Winter said, “Don’t.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

Winter sighed. “Clover, either of us could get you out of here _right now._ Why wait? It’s needlessly complicated, and it’s just another layer of risk.”

Qrow hopped over to Winter, then looked at him. So, it was like that. Annoyance nagged at his mind, and he put down his half-eaten croissant. “I don’t need you two to save me. I can break out on my own.”

Qrow and Winter exchanged looks. It was a horrible thing to be on the other side of. “Of course, you can,” Winter said, placating. “It’s just that it will be easier and safer if Qrow and I help.”

“And then what?” Clover demanded. “Sure, we just walk out the front door, that’s great. You’ll be aiding and abetting a rogue omega at best, branded a _kidnapper_ at worst. And don’t think he won’t go straight for the nuclear option, once he finds out I’m gone.”

He indicated Winter with a nod. “Your military career will be over, and you’ll be stuck in a prison cell instead of out there fighting like you should be when we need you most. And you,” he turned to Qrow. “Are apparently _already a fugitive._ If James suspects you have even the smallest _sliver_ of involvement, he won’t rest until you’re dead. The law be damned, he’ll kill you himself. Your nieces, all those kids…they’ll have lost their uncle, because of me.”

Clover took a deep breath. His heart was racing. “Now, do either of you have any _actually_ constructive ideas, or do I need to do this by myself?”

There was a pause. Finally, Winter said, “I’m sorry, Clover. That was…insensitive. You’re right, we should try to make it look like you broke out on your own. But we can help you do that. Let’s just think about this, okay? Is there any way we could get you out today, instead?”

“Why?” he said, suddenly feeling stubbornly attached to his little plan. “The Ace-Op tryouts are the perfect distraction.”

Qrow indicated the same word from earlier.

_JAMES_

Clover scowled. “What do you even know about it?”

_HURT_

Clover couldn’t help the aborted motion to cover his neck, still dotted with bruises despite a day and a half of aura. Alpha marks were fun like that. Qrow hopped forward, as if to comfort him. 

“I think,” Winter said, diplomatically, “There’s just a concern in leaving you with one more night.”

Clover breathed out through his nose. He felt pinned down, boxed in. His mind flashed to that night, unable to escape as James held him in place. Panic gripped him. He glared at Qrow. “Well, maybe if I’d had all of the information I wouldn’t have made such an ass of myself, defending you.”

Qrow shrunk back.

Clover stood up. “Nevermind. I can handle James just fine. I’ve _been_ handling him.”

“Clover… “

“I think you both should go now.”

It was wrong; he knew it was unfair and wrong as soon as he said it. But he just couldn’t _think_ with the two of them staring at him like this. It was too much, talking to the both of them at the same time, their ganging up on him like he was a petulant child that needed to be contained. All of the anger from the last month swirled in his mind, desperate for a target.

“I’m taking a shower,” he announced. He couldn’t look at them. “Be gone by the time I’m done.”

With that, Clover marched down the hall, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him.

* * *

Clover didn’t feel any better by the time he emerged from the bedroom, but at least he was alone. Winter must have cleaned up; the dishes were in the sink, the game tiles were back in the box, and the food he’d put out for Qrow was gone. The door to the dumbwaiter was shut, the light indicating that it had descended to the main level. He still poured over the living room obsessively, checking for any stray feathers that might give up the game. The extra pastries were packed in their bag, left on the table. He threw them out.

He needed to figure out the rest of the plan, he _knew_ he did. It was just that every time he tried to focus, all he could think about were all the things he should have said to Qrow. Winter was easier to forgive; she’d only been present for the last week of his captivity, and he’d always known he was talking to _Winter._ Qrow, though…

Qrow had _lied_ to him. Just like James lied to him. He’d kept him in the dark, just to…to what? Keep him sweet and cooperative and doing whatever it was Qrow wanted him to do? What did Qrow even _want_ from him?

It was all just overwhelming, and his mind circled itself endlessly as the day wore on. As the sun dropped lower he _made_ himself calm down, so he wouldn’t seem so upset when James walked in. But it was an impossible task; as he prepared dinner, for the first time in several days, all of his usual rhythm was gone. Instead there was clumsiness, and frustration, and stupid mistakes.

On top of all that, he was paranoid that James would suspect something about his escape plan. So he had to act normal, affectionate even. Except now that he’d decided to leave, every touch from the alpha made his skin crawl. 

“This looks amazing,” James said, peering over his shoulder.

It really didn’t. Clover had cut his finger chopping carrots for the stir fry, and it had bled everywhere before his aura could heal the wound. He’d spent a good five minutes trying to pick out all the affected pieces before deciding that if the James was so keen on marking and knotting him, he was probably fine with consuming a little of Clover’s blood. He’d rinsed the remaining carrots and called it a day.

“Thanks, it’s nothing,” Clover said, by which he meant, ‘ _I hate being here and I hate you, you absolute piece of shit.’_

“Did you have a good day?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, mindlessly agreeable, meaning, ‘ _you ruined my life and I want you to die.’_ “Winter brought croissants from that place I like.”

At least it wasn’t that hard to act like a vapid, typical omega. Like a child, but one that you wanted to fuck. All alphas were disgusting.

“This is really good,” James praised, as they ate. “You’ve truly outdone yourself.”

Clover smiled blankly. “I’m glad you like it,” he said, meaning, ‘ _I hope you choke.’_

The night was even worse. James was feeling…handsy, apparently. A few times he’d given Clover an exploratory sniff and he’d locked up, thinking all was lost. He kept thinking this was it: James knew, or he was about to know, that Clover was anxious over the impending escape. But then the man would just kiss him, or touch him, or rub his neck, continuing on without comment. It was utterly baffling, and the worst part was that it _worked._ James’s touch soothed his rage, finally, and he was able to fall into a fitful but much-needed sleep.

The next morning, he realized why.

James was in the shower, and Clover had gone into the guest bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water, needing to chase the groggy vestiges of sleep from his mind. Today was the day. He needed to be sharp.

Except the feel of the water against his warm skin was _amazing_. Clover sighed, a shiver running through his body.

He sobered, realizing what was happening.

No. No, no, no.

He was in heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are starting to wind down, with this fic! The end is in sight. By which I mean, it's all popping off. *ducks*


	8. Transported

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover uses his sexuality as a weapon, in order to retrieve his actual weapon.

No. No, no, no.

He was in heat.

He was in heat, and why didn’t he _think_ about this and now he was about to be stuck with James _forever_ all because the was too _stupid_ to leave yesterday like Qrow and Winter wanted. He could see his whole future stretch out before him: begging James to knot him, to mark him, to take him; the pups that would inevitably come from the very first heat; being paraded in front of Atlesian society, perpetually pregnant; the first birth, and how that would lock him in forever, the love for his children washing away any and all objection to the loss of his freedom from their sire. Maybe Salem would set her siege once again on Atlas and he’d have the pleasure of watching his babies die one by one, bargaining chips for the relic, years of imprisonment and torture just so James could have the noble job of sacrificing him for the greater good.

He wouldn’t even want anything else, eventually. Qrow could come for him, years, _weeks_ from now, and would he even be able to leave? How soon until James was all he could think about and James was all he would want and James and James and _James._

He’d wasted a decade on this man. He’d given up so much already, and now the rest was due.

It couldn’t end like this.

Clover let out a breath, trying to calm down. He had to assess the situation. First of all, how bad was the heat, now? Would James notice?

He touched the back of his hand to his forehead. It was warm, even he could feel it. A full fever wasn’t long off. The rest of his body was…fine. It was fine.

It _was_ fine. Clover sighed in relief. The heat wasn’t _that_ strong, yet. It hadn’t moved from his head to his gut. Certainly, it was less than his pseudo-heat last week, where he’d _almost_ been able to convince James to go back to work for a few hours. Clover debated just getting back in bed and claiming fatigue. But James had a keen nose, and he was hyper-sensitive now; if he started acting like an invalid, the alpha would never leave.

No. This was it. This had to be it. He could still think straight _now_ , but that wouldn’t be the case for long. A plan started taking shape. He could use this.

Double or nothing. The stakes were higher than they’d ever been.

Hopefully this time would go better than the last.

* * *

_“Ironwood’s declaring Martial Law and abandoning Mantle! Salem is coming and he’s going to use the staff to move Atlas! If we don’t stop him, Mantle’s going to be dest– “_

As Ruby’s transmission cut out, and Qrow and Robyn turned to him with cautious eyes, Clover let out a deep breath.

He was _tired._

It was hard to think that the Schnee dinner party had been just hours ago. He barely felt like the same person who’d walked into that ridiculous mansion. Between Schnee’s arrest, the sabotaged heating grid and the evacuations, the General going public about Salem, and the arrest of Tyrian Callows, it felt like a lifetime has passed. But it was just one night, and of course nobody had slept.

And now there was this. Clover put his scroll away, sighing as he stood.

“Qrow, you should know that I’ve been asked to bring you in.”

From his restrained position on the bench, Callows giggled in delight. “A free ride _and_ a show!”

Clover ignored him. He had to tread carefully here. “There’s…also an alert out for team RWBY’s arrest.”

Qrow tensed, his hand at his weapon. “What? Has James lost his mind?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it? What _was_ James thinking? The thought of everyone still in Mantle left behind made him sick. But the alternative…if Salem got the staff, it could be everyone in _Remnant._

Bianca. And Rafe. They were so small.

He needed more information. Ruby said that Salem was coming; how close was she? He had to wrap this up and get to James as soon as possible. Uneasiness tugged at his heart, as he looked to Qrow. The man…hadn’t really done anything to deserve arrest, had he?

No. he had to do this. James would never trust him again if he went against orders, not now. And he owed it to James to trust _his_ judgement, after everything he’d done for Clover. If he came in with an offering, a show of support, then _maybe_ they could come up with another plan together. And then everything would be okay.

He just had to deal with these three alphas first.

“He’s trying to stop anybody who might get in the way of this inhumane plan,” Robyn declared. She readied her crossbow, aiming it at Clover. “Looks like he underestimated me. Again.”

Clover cursed internally. Of course, between a serial killer and the man who was _actually_ under arrest, Robyn Hill was going to be the biggest threat on the ship. He needed to diffuse this situation. He was pretty sure he could convince Qrow to go peacefully, if Robyn didn’t get him all riled up. Maybe if he just gave a little…push.

He’d only tried this a couple times before, but it was worth a shot. He made a wish to his semblance, then turned to Robyn.

“Only Qrow is under arrest. After everything we’ve been through tonight, _please_ don’t make me arrest you, too.”

He held a hand up, giving just the _slightest_ omega purr to his voice on the ‘please’. Not enough to pick up on, unless you were listening for it. Just enough to soothe, and hopefully too low to change his scent.

Robyn paused, hand relaxing on her crossbow trigger. In his peripheral, Qrow rose, hands comfortably far from Harbinger. He didn’t look ready to fight. This _might_ work.

“We’re almost back to Atlas,” Qrow said, calmly. “Let’s talk to James personally– “

“It’s taking a _very long time_ for this show to get to the good part.”

Clover’s eyes flicked to Callows. Too late, he wondered if the scorpion faunus had enhanced smell. Tyrian was staring at him, licking his lips as he gave Clover a hungry look. He balked as he realized his mistake.

“Shut. Up.” Qrow growled. His tone was strangely…personal. Dread pooled in Clover’s gut.Tyrian giggled, looking from Qrow back to him. “It’s not a total bore, I suppose. It’s not every day I get to be tied up by such a _delicious_ little omega, is it, Clover?”

Everyone froze. Qrow and Clover spoke simultaneously.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“ _Don’t_ listen to him.”

“Oh, _now_ it’s getting good!” Tyrian crowed, rocking back in his restraints. He leaned forward on the upswing, taunting Qrow. “You didn’t notice how sweet he smells? Hmm, pity. Guess I was wrong about you two.”

“Clover…?” Qrow said, giving him a searching look.

He met Qrow’s gaze, resigned.

“You’re an omega,” Qrow said, the truth setting in. His gaze softened, unreadable.

No. It wasn’t fair. They’re been dancing around each other for _weeks._ Clover had been waiting for the right time to tell him, sure he had found someone he could trust. Qrow wasn’t like the alphas in Atlas. He was so encouraging with those kids, never treating the omegas like they were anything less. Now he was looking at Clover with…what? Betrayal? Disgust? Disappointment?

“Clover, I… “

“Save it.” Clover snapped. “I don’t need your pity.”

Robyn drew in a breath as she realized what he’d done. She again readied her weapon, pointing it at him, furious. “What was that, some kind of ploy? You’re trying to sweet-talk me into behaving?”

Clover barked out a laugh. His hand hovered over Kingfisher. The chances of this ending quietly were quickly diminishing. “Maybe instead of acting like a complete knot-head for once, Robyn, if you could just–”

“Just what? Fall in line so Ironwood can abandon my home to the Grimm?”

“I trust James with my _life_ ,” Clover said. “He wouldn’t act without good reason. Just let me do this, and then _I_ will talk to him. Maybe we can still sort this out.”

“James knows, doesn’t he?”

It was Qrow who spoke. Clover shot him an accusing look. Robyn’s eyes flicked to Qrow, then widened as she came to the same conclusion. “Ironwood knows, and he hasn’t kicked you out yet.”

“What exactly are you implying?” Clover asked, his voice low.

“He’s got you wrapped around his little finger!” Robyn exclaimed. “One step out of line and he’ll tell everyone, is that it? That’s why you’re willing to sacrifice thousands of innocent lives. For _yourself?_ Or is it because your _alpha_ told you to?”

Clover unfolded Kingfisher in one fluid motion, seeing red. Fine, he could arrest her too. “You don’t know anything about me. This has _nothing to do_ with my dynamic.”

Qrow shot Robyn a warning look. “Both of you, calm down. Robyn, you’re out of line. I swear, everyone in Atlas is so gods-damned backwards when it comes to dynamics.”

He turned to Clover. “Clover, I know you have your orders, but you don’t have to follow them, okay? Let me come with you, and we can _both_ talk to James. You don’t owe him anything, just for treating you like an equal.”

Clover hesitated. Tyrian leered at him, interjecting. “Oooh, now _there’s_ an interesting idea. Such a good omega, so eager to follow his alpha’s orders.”

It was far from the worst thing an alpha had said to him, but Qrow reacted as if _he_ had been the one attacked.

“Don’t you say _another word_ to him,” Qrow growled, an undercurrent of alpha _command_ to his voice, challenging the faunus.

Clover hadn’t been expecting that, at least not from Qrow. He faltered at the tone, as if the alpha had directed those words at _him._ Kingfisher clattered to the ground, as he lay a hand to the wall for support. Qrow looked over, alarmed.

Tyrian cackled, delighted by his submission, completing the absurd triangle. “And _so_ obedient! Tell me, what other kinds of orders does General Ironwood like to give you? How pretty you must look, bent over his desk, begging him to fill you with his–”

With a cry, Qrow lunged at Tyrian and punched him in the jaw, knocking the faunus out. Clover used the distraction to make a grab for Kingfisher. Robyn, however, was quick on the trigger, catching him with an arrow in the shoulder before he could grab his weapon. Clover cried out as his aura flickered, taking the bulk of the blow. He was flung back, hitting the wall of the transport before slumping to the floor.

Hearing Clover cry out, Qrow whirled on _Robyn_ , kicking her in the chest. She staggered back as he swept down to scoop up Harbinger, which had been leaning against the bench. He _growled_ and swung his weapon at her in a brutal arc. Robyn barely deflected the swing, falling down; there was real fear in her eyes as she held him off. From the floor, Clover saw the pure alpha rage in his partner’s movements.

Everything was going wrong. He must have inadvertently triggered Qrow’s instincts. Maybe he _was_ just like the alphas in Atlas, at least in this respect. A desperate plan formed in his mind.

It was double or nothing. The only way out was through. If this worked, he could still make the arrest and get to James. If it didn’t…it was better not to think about that.

He drew on every scrap of omega influence that he could as he called out.

_“Qrow!”_

The alpha froze, his sword paused mid-strike. He turned his attention to Clover, propped against the wall in the far corner of the transport. Clover made eye contact with Qrow. Hesitantly, he tilted his head back, exposing his neck for the other man. He reached out a hand.

“I’m okay, all right?” he said. “Robyn’s not your enemy. Just…come here.”

Qrow crossed to the other side of the transport, Robyn temporarily forgotten. Clover could recognize the fog of alpha instinct–to protect, to possess, to _take_. As he knelt to inspect the omega, Clover sent the Huntress a pleading look: _Stay down._ She glared, disgusted with him as she recognized his intentions, but stayed put.

The deck was stacked in his favor. It had been…close to 24 hours since his last suppressant. He was due, but it shouldn’t be enough to make a difference. As long as Qrow didn’t pull anything dramatic again, he should be able to control his reaction. His scent blockers, however, had to be wearing off at this point. Between the heightened tension in the transport, and his little stunt with Robyn, he was sure Qrow would be able to smell him. He wasn’t proud of this tactic, but if he could just get Qrow _closer…_

“It’s okay,” Clover repeated. As Qrow drew near, eyes drawn to the long column of his throat, Clover made room for him on the floor. He pulled Qrow down so they were eye level, and stared into crimson eyes. The alpha was practically in his lap now. An insistent knee was braced between Clover’s legs, pushing dangerously close. He parted his lips, as an invitation. Qrow moved in. Clover braced himself.

But the kiss was…innocent. Sweet. Clover made a soft noise of surprise, expecting something more violent. It wasn’t like the needy, frantic kisses of his heats, or the aggressive, claiming kisses from presumptuous alphas. Qrow didn’t push him into the wall or shove his tongue in Clover’s mouth or bite his lip open so he could lick at the blood. He let Clover take the lead, responding softly, eagerly.

It was…good. Nice. It was really _nice._

Clover suddenly felt horribly guilty. His hand stilled over his bolas.

He pushed Qrow back, gently. The other man went without resisting, his face slack in wonderment. Clover had the terrifying thought that he could probably get Qrow to do anything, in that moment. He hesitated, paralyzed by indecision.

Eventually, Robyn cleared her throat. “Much as I hate to interrupt this tender moment, we’re coming up on Atlas.”

That seemed to snap Qrow out of it. He scrambled to the other side of the transport, looking guilty. He didn’t seem to realize what an awful con Clover, his _partner_ , had just tried to play on him. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…that was a mistake.”

He knew what Qrow meant by that, but it stung all the same.

Still on the floor, Clover leaned forward and sighed. He drew his knees up and braced his elbows on them, letting his head fall into his hands. His fingers scrubbed through the short hair at his temples. He took a few shaky breaths, then refocused.

He glanced at the cockpit. The pilot and co-pilot had kept their attention on flying, professional. But there was no way they hadn’t heard everything. And even if they _didn’t_ plan on turning him in, there was still the security footage, which would inevitably be pulled up considering what Clover was about to do. His career, his whole _life,_ was effectively over.

James was going to be so disappointed in him.

Clover turned to Robyn. “I need to bring in Callows.”

She got to her feet, her hand hovering over her weapon. “And then?”

“Then nothing. No one’s under arrest.” Clover said. He stood and walked to the transport door. With a bang of his fist, it slid open. “Go. Now. Do whatever it is you need to do, but I can’t help you.”

Robyn only hesitated a second, stealing a quick glance at Qrow before jumping out of the transport. Qrow looked relieved.

“You’re doing the right thing, Clover. Let’s just…go see James, okay?”

“I was talking to both of you,” Clover said, exhausted. He knelt to retrieve Kingfisher and secure it at his belt, refusing to meet Qrow’s eyes. “I have a job to do.”

He finally looked up. Qrow looked confused, and a little sad. He reached up, grasping the alpha’s shoulder. It…really was a shame, how much he wanted to trust Qrow. But maybe it was better this way, to end things before they could even start. His cousin Cedar was right; he trusted people too quickly, and he held on for too long. It blew up in his face every time.

Clover sighed, giving the other man a little smile. “Good luck,” he said.

And then he pushed Qrow out the door.

* * *

Double or nothing. Okay.

Clover steeled himself. If there was anyone who had this coming, it was James. Let’s see how _he_ liked being manipulated by his hormones.

He dried his face, then went back to the bedroom. The shower was still running. He retrieved his wooden box from the nightstand and took out his lucky pin. Closing his eyes, he touched the pin to his lips and made a _wish_.

The water turned off. Clover put the pin back, tucked the box into its place, and went to go make coffee.

James came out a few minutes later, smelling of shampoo and just a hint of his distinct alpha musk.

“Coffee?”

James accepted, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Clover let himself sigh at the contact, the soft breathy sound just barely perceptible. James’s gaze lingered on him.

“Anything exciting happening this morning?” he asked. It wasn’t hard, with his hormones running like this, to cast an adoring gaze at the alpha before him.

James eyed him, curious. “Just the Ace Ops try-outs, why do you ask?”

“Oh,” Clover said, biting his lip. “No, that’s important, I…never mind.”

He’d never been especially _adept_ at this omega softness. It was an underdeveloped skill; he’d spent most of his life convincing people he was a beta, after all. Plus, he didn’t have the stomach for it. It was, unfortunately in his experience, not that hard to present a pretty picture that an alpha would want to _take_. It was another thing entirely to get an alpha to _give_ you what you wanted and think it was their idea all along.

James rose from his seat, concerned. “What is it?”

“No, I just…I think I might be about to…”

James leaned over, inhaling. Clover held his breath, a shudder going through him as he tilted his head to allow access. He thought about Qrow, to keep his scent sweet.

“I’ll cancel the try-outs,” James said, pulling out his scroll.

Clover looked down, squirming just a bit in his seat. “But you said you’re almost ready to pick somebody, right? I just…I feel so bad about last time. And it’s my fault they’re so short-staffed right now.”

He looked up through his lashes, every bit the bashful omega, worrying his lip with his teeth. “I can…I can wait, I think. And when you get back, I’ll just have you to _myself_ , and we can…”

He trailed off, letting the silence speak for itself. The flush creeping up his neck was real.

James was staring at his mouth. For a moment, Clover worried he’d gone a bit _too_ far. But then the alpha tapped at his scroll, the spell broken. “What if I move them up?”

Bingo.

“You could do that?” Clover asked, eyes wide. It was an idiotic question. The man was the General of Atlas, for the Brothers’ sake.

The alpha gave him a dazzling smile. “Of course. I just had a meeting with Winter, but that can be postponed.”

“Tell Winter I’m sorry about messing up her schedule, okay? I feel really bad.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand,” James said. His scroll dinged. “It’s done. Harriet’s assembling everyone in the training room.”

James suddenly frowned, looking around the apartment. He was checking the windows, Clover realized. His heart stopped. “Is something wrong?”

“I just don’t like the idea of leaving you alone like this,” James said. “It’s not safe. Maybe I should have Winter come up until I’m done.”

Clover felt a little insulted on Winter’s behalf that her time was so cheap. He kicked himself again for sending her and Qrow away, yesterday. Still, it wouldn’t do to ruin her career and possibly implicate her in a crime without even consulting her. The heat was still mild. He could do this.

“James,” he said, a little breathy. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt, head bowed, fingers trailing the marks where they peeked out above the fabric. “I really _don’t_ want to see anyone else, right now.” He added a little purr on the ‘ _don’t.’_

Winter Schnee had probably the worst gods-damned nose of any beta he’d ever met. It was an excellent quality in the field, as she never got distracted by dynamics. But she was obviously no threat to his virtue. Regardless, some combination of luck, hormones, and short-sighted paranoia had James putting his scroll away.

Now all he had to do was land the plane.

“All right,” James said, “If that’s what you want. But you’ll call me right away if anything changes?”

Clover nodded, standing. “I’ll be fine. I think I might just…get in the bathtub, until you get back?”

James let out a soft growl, leaning in. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Clover wrapped his arms around the alpha’s neck, letting out a little noise as James kissed him. He closed his eyes, letting his body do what it wanted without the burden of too much thought. James pressed him up against the counter, hands snaking up under his shirt. Clover shivered as he felt cool metal on his lower back.

It was a tricky tightrope to walk, to be convincing but not so encouraging that the man would change his mind all over again. It was probably gilding the lily to plant the image of him waiting, naked and wet and ready for his alpha to come take him at his leisure. But it was a parting gift: to James, that he might be happy for a few hours thinking of the prize that awaited him; and to his younger self, to take the last chance he’d ever get to indulge this alternate fantasy life. One where James truly loved him, and he gave him everything in turn.

James was the one to break the kiss, pulling back with a sigh. “I should get down there,” he said, with a regretful smile.

Clover looked into his deep blue eyes. A wash of sadness crept over his heart as he let go. “Okay,” he said.

“This shouldn’t take too long.”

“Okay.”

He watched as James gathered his things, moving around the apartment they’d shared for…it seemed like forever, to be honest. Just before he left, James swept over to give him one last kiss. “I’ll be back before you know it, all right?”

Clover tugged him down, pressing his lips to the alpha’s temple. “I’ll be waiting.”

James gave him that confident smile again, then left.

“Goodbye,” Clover said, softly, as the door clicked shut.

He gave himself exactly one minute to feel his feelings, and then he went straight for the office. He had a job to do.

* * *

The lock was taking too long.

He shouldn’t have pushed his luck so much with James, because his heat was going in earnest now. Sweat beaded at his temples as he shivered, feverous, trying to work the lock with two bent paperclips. He and Faye spent a whole summer learning to do this when they were kids. It should have been easy. But his fingers and his concentration kept slipping, spoiling the delicate task.

He couldn’t do it. James was going to find him like this, on the floor in front of the desk, his betrayal clear as day. And then everything would be so much worse. Frustrated, he pounded the lock, tears slipping down his cheeks. Of course, that did nothing.

Clover took a shuddering breath and tried again. He rested his head against the top drawer, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on the pins slipping into place. Just when he almost had it, another shiver of desire ran down his spine. His hands skittered at the lock, ruining the attempt.

He sobbed, leaning into the desk. “Stupid, why can’t I do this?” he moaned. “I’m so _fucking stupid_ , why did I think I could–”

Something touched his head.

Clover snapped his head up, terrified, thinking it was James. It wasn’t.

It was Qrow. Qrow was standing on the desk. As a bird.

“ _Qrow,_ ” he said, sniffling. “How did you…were you in here all night?”

Qrow bobbed his head.

“You…you let me try my plan?”

Another head bob. Clover started crying again. It felt terrible, to be trusted and to have failed so miserably.

“Oh, that’s…that really sweet Qrow, but I messed up, okay?” Another sniffle. “You were right. I should have gone with you and Winter, but I was too stupid and I’m…I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

He leaned into the desk again, unable to look at Qrow. Confessions and apologies slipped out between sobs. “This is just...it’s all my _fault_ , Qrow, and I’m so _sorry_ , and James is…he really is going to kill you, you don’t know how _bad_ he can get, I’ve never _seen_ him like that before, and I never should have _trusted_ him, back on…on..”

Qrow groomed his hair, gently, which just made him cry more.

“Don’t be nice to me, I don’t _deserve_ it,” he said, sobbing. “I was going to arrest you, back on the transport, okay? When we…when we kissed, I thought if I could distract you then I could still bring you in, but you were…you were so _sweet_ and I just _couldn’t,_ and now you’re _here_ and I’m _sorry_ and I…I…I can’t get this _fucking lock_ _open._ ”

Clover closed his eyes, sniffling, pathetic. He shuddered as another wave of heat rolled through him. It was getting worse.

In a small voice, he asked, “Can you help me, please?”

There was a rustle of feathers, and then the brush of Qrow’s beak in his hair was gone. Instead, long fingers dotted with rings trailed through his sweaty locks, soothing.

“Hey there, Lucky Charm.”

Clover looked up. Qrow was sitting on the desk, legs dangling off the side, his crimson eyes full of emotion. Clover didn’t think he’d ever been so glad to see someone in his entire life. The unmistakable smell of _alpha_ filled the room, and he shuddered again. “Qrow,” he whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”

Qrow wiped the tears from Clover’s face, ignoring the wetness in his own eyes. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I tricked you. I saw the way you reacted to Tyrian, and I tried to play you.”

“I know,” Qrow said.

Clover’s eyes widened. “You what?”

“I know. I wouldn’t have let you.” Qrow gave him a cocky smirk, somewhat undermined by his own sniffle. “You’re not _that_ hot, Ebi.”

He barked out a laugh, through the tears. Qrow smiled down at him, then grew serious.

“Hey,” he said, “This is my fault, too. I shouldn’t have taken the bait, with Tyrian. And I should have told you sooner, that I was Crow. Which is a gods-awful name, by the way.”

Clover sniffled, smiling. “I think it’s lovely. Call it even?”

Qrow hesitated, biting his lip. “Mine got you hurt…”

“ _Qrow.”_

The alpha sighed, rolling his eyes as he dabbed at them with his other hand. “Fine, you win.”

Clover took a shuddering breath, fighting off the last of the tears. “I can’t get the lock,” he said.

“Yes, you can,” Qrow assured him. He carded his hand through Clover’s hair. It felt _so good._ Clover closed his eyes, sighing as the alpha calmed him. “Hey, look at me.”

Clover opened his eyes.

“You can do this.”

Clover took a deep breath, centering himself. He wiped his face, then picked up the paperclips, slotting them into the lock. One by one he felt the pins drop into place. He let out his breath, slowly.

The lock turned. He hadn’t even used his semblance.

Clover let out a whoop as the drawer opened, revealing his beloved Kingfisher. He leapt up, ecstatic, only to immediately regret the decision. Between the heat and the time spent kneeling at the lock, his legs felt like jelly. Before he could topple over, Qrow caught him around the waist, steadying him. Clover wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck, laughing and pulling him into a hug. Qrow held him just as tight.

After a moment, Clover mumbled into Qrow’s hair. “Okay, that was very sweet and kind of romantic, but I seriously do need your help now. I don’t know if I can make the jump like this.”

At his hip, Qrow’s scroll buzzed. “You don’t have to,” he said, looking a little guilty. “We made a backup plan.” He steadied Clover against the desk, then tapped his scroll. Winter’s voice came through.

_“Qrow, what is happening up there? The try-outs are winding down. I can try to hold the General off, but you need to move NOW. Everyone is waiting for your signal.”_

Clover raised an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

Qrow smirked. “Wanna get out of here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QROW: [in bird] I'll be fine, just leave me a little handful of almonds idk. Don't think about it too much.  
> WINTER: What if you need to...do the other thing?  
> QROW: [in bird] I can think of a few places.
> 
> (Also, shoutout to lizzieonawhim for totally calling this, haha XD )
> 
> Next chapter...HEIST!


	9. Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover asks for what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This chapter deals with some themes of a sexual nature. Nothing especially explicit, but you can skip the last scene if you're not into it.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” Clover breathed. Qrow smiled. He had this little sideways half-smirk, the corners his eyes crinkling, a strangely boyish look about him despite all that he’d been through in his life. Gods, the man was handsome. It was all he could do not to push him down onto the desk and climb him like a–

“Wait. Just…one thing first.”

Qrow’s smile faltered, a wrinkle of uncertainty in his eyes. Clover grasped his shoulders, pulling him close to they could look eye to eye.

“Listen. I am about to beg you to fuck me.”

Qrow’s jaw dropped open. Clover continued.

“And I still very much want to do that, just…after my heat. Please do not read anything into that other than that I want us both to know, with 100% certainty, that I am in my full and rational mind when I ask you to completely destroy me, sexually. Are you okay with that?”

Qrow nodded.

“Can you say it?”

“Okay,” Qrow said. “Yes. I promise.”

His voice sounded strained.

“Good. Can I kiss you?”

“You just said– “

“Kissing is fine. Just keep it above the belt and don’t mess with my neck. Qrow, I swear to the Gods, if you don’t kiss me right now I think I might actually go insa–”

Qrow surged forward, bringing their lips together. Clover moaned, leaning back onto the desk and pulling Qrow in. Caught off guard by the strength of his grasp, Qrow barely braced himself on the desk as he tumbled forward, landing half on top of Clover in an awkward embrace.

_“Qrow? Qrow, can you hear me? Please respond.”_

Qrow broke the kiss, pulling back with some difficulty. Clover whined and tried to catch his mouth again, which he nimbly dodged. He picked up his scroll. “Sorry, got it. We’re on our way. Tell them to get into position.”

To Clover he said, “You…weren’t kidding, huh.”

Clover shook his head.

“We need to go, okay?”

Clover nodded. Speech was proving difficult. He leaned in, trying to get one more kiss out of Qrow.

“Later,” Qrow said, with a hint of a growl, pushing him back. Qrow pulled away, his face flushed. Clover stared. The man’s self-control was truly remarkable.

Clover took a few breaths to compose himself. “Okay. Did you have a plan or something?”

* * *

His legs were still shaky, so Qrow helped him into the bedroom so he could grab a couple things. While Qrow rustled through the closet, hastily packing a bag with a few changes of clothes–he’d probably want to burn the ones he was wearing now, by the end of this–Clover knelt by the bedside table, retrieving his wooden box. He took out his mother’s pin, thumbing it for luck before tucking it back into the box.

After a moment of consideration, he pulled out the bandanna and placed it on the nightstand. That would have to do.

Qrow set the open duffel bag on the bed, then handed Clover a pair of boots. It was strange to think he hadn’t worn _shoes_ in three straight weeks. He tugged them on while Qrow carefully tucked his box of treasures into the bag with his clothes. It was a bit of an odd look, with the loose joggers and t-shirt he’d slept in, combat boots, and Kingfisher holstered around his waist, but needs must.

“Anything else you want to take?” Qrow asked.

Clover looked around. Despite the care he took for it, this had never really felt like home. Most of his belongings felt tarnished for having come here anyway. “No,” he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

“All right, let’s move.”

“Right,” Clover agreed, as Qrow helped him into the living room. “What’s the signal?”

Qrow raised Harbinger and shot the lock off the balcony door.

“Subtle,” he said.

“You didn’t exactly give me a lot of time.” Qrow growled, flinging the door open.

He hauled Clover outside. As they approached the railing, the air shimmered around them. What looked like the usual Atlas skyline just a moment ago now revealed a shimmering Queen Lancer summon, coming from not Winter, but _Weiss_ Schnee. One of Robyn’s Huntresses was with her on its back; he couldn’t recall her name. They both had bandannas tied around their faces. Clover looked to Qrow, questioning.

“Scent blockers,” he explained.

“How did you know I would be…wait. You’re not wearing one,” Clover noted.

Qrow sent him a dark look. Clover swallowed, turning to the sky.

He climbed over the railing and onto the Lancer’s back, with some assistance. His hands shook as he gripped its carapace, running on adrenaline.

“Weiss,” he greeted, giving her a tight smile. She barely nodded, focused. Another deep _shudder_ ran through his body, and it occurred to him that his life now depended on the ability of a teenage alpha to concentrate on her semblance while five feet away from an omega in heat, something she’d probably never even _seen_ before. And that said concentration was hanging on a scent blocker procured by Winter, who likely wouldn’t be able to smell him if he were panting in her lap. He made a wish.

Clover turned to the other woman. “That’s a neat semblance, Ms., uh…?”

She smirked at him. “Marigold. May Marigold. I suppose you can’t be expected to remember the names of all the people you try to arrest.”

The Lancer moved away from the balcony, where Qrow was still standing. “Aren’t you coming?!” he exclaimed, trying to convey ‘ _please don’t leave me on a flying grimm basically helpless with this woman who has a grudge against me’_ with his tone.

“We won’t all fit,” Qrow said, apologetically, “I’ll meet you down there.”

Then he turned into a bird and flew off.

Well. That was something.

The Huntress, May, grabbed the back of his shirt to hold him in place. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I won’t bite. Robyn sends her regards, by the way.”

Clover had no time to process that, because as they pulled away from the tower there was a terrifying _roar_ from inside the apartment. He had a split second to realize what was happening, and then James was on the balcony, his eyes wild.

Clover’s heart stopped in his chest. It was ten times worse than the night James found the feather. The pure alpha _rage_ in the man’s expression was unlike anything he’d ever seen. James searched the skies, unseeing. They must have been far enough away to be out of his range. But then he drew his pistol, pointing it not at them, but…

At the retreating form of Qrow.

It was as if everything moved in slow motion. James took aim. Clover drew his weapon back. He cast his line, the thrum of his heat forgotten, as an eerie focus he’d never experienced before settled over him. Kingfisher curled around the gun just as James tightened his fingers on the trigger.

Clover _pulled_. The shot went wild, and the gun slipped out of the alpha’s hand, falling harmless to the courtyard.

James whipped his head around, searching. He must have spotted the retreating hook, because he drew his second pistol, jumping onto the balcony railing as he aimed. He fired, launching himself into the air.

They were flying, but not fast enough. James was an excellent shot. He was headed straight for them.

Clover acted on instinct. He knelt, grounding his stance as best as he could, shrugging off May’s hand as she tried to keep him down. His hook retracted just as James burst through May’s bubble of invisibility. Just as James was about to land, Clover drew Kingfisher’s pole across his body, blocking the alpha’s grasp and halting him in place.

There was a split second where their eyes met, James’s blue to Clover’s teal. Clover had just enough time to see the look of surprise on James’s face before he _pushed_ , throwing the alpha away from them.

James fell, stunned, to the courtyard below.

Oh, gods. What had he done?

Weiss swerved hard and he stumbled, May catching his shirt again to steady him. Clover peered over the side in terror. At the last second, James righted himself, firing his pistol to break the fall. Clover let out a breath.

“Hold on!” Weiss called, a little late.

Then they were swooping down, away from the towers of the Academy. Time caught up with him and Clover squeezed his eyes shut, dizzy from the motion. He flattened himself against the Lancer’s back, holding on with all his strength. His pulse pounded in his ears.

They eventually touched down, and May let go of him. He didn’t know how long he sat there, clinging to the grimm in a panic, before he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. “Cloves? It’s okay, I’m back. Let’s get you down, all right?”

Clover nodded, shakily sliding off the side of the creature and into Qrow’s arms. He stuttered, heart racing. “I thought you were…he was going to…”

“It’s okay,” Qrow repeated, rubbing his back. “I’m okay. Heh, that’s some arm you got there, Lucky Charm.”

“I think my heat gave me superpowers,” he mumbled into Qrow’s hair.

The alpha chuckled. “I’m calling it skill.”

Clover took a deep breath, then looked around. They were in an alley not far from the academy, still in Atlas. Weiss let out a breath and the Lancer dissolved. She turned to him, waving, looking a bit fatigued. The summon must have taken a lot out of her. She was blushing furiously as she adjusted her bandanna around her nose. Clover averted his eyes, embarrassed.

Qrow seemed agitated. “Where are they?” he muttered.

His scroll buzzed, and Jaune Arc’s voice came through.

_“Change of plans, we had to land on the other side of the street. You’re gonna need to come to us. Sending you our location.”_

“On our way,” Qrow replied. He turned to Clover. “Can you walk?”

Clover tested his weight on shaky legs. His whole body was buzzing, from the fever and the flight and from seeing James. Now that they were on the ground, his heat was building intensely. “I don’t think so.”

“I can carry you.”

Qrow was a hair shorter and a good deal lankier than him, but Clover had seen him in action with Harbinger. He had no doubt the other man was capable. What he _did_ doubt was the limit of his fraying self-control. “Wait, I can…I just need a minute– “

_“You’ve got company, incoming!”_ Jaune called, and then Qrow swept him up, bridal style.

Clover’s rational mind shorted out, replaced with a cacophony of _alpha_ and _submit_ and _mine_. He was vaguely aware of Weiss holding off the impending gunfire, and of entering the airship and being set down on a bench, but the actual motion of taking flight was a total blur.

The heat was taking over, blocking out all other thought. He made an obscene noise as Qrow manhandled him into place. All he could think about was _Qrow_ , and trying to make as much contact as possible, and when Qrow wouldn’t let him just _begging_ Qrow to please help him touch him take him.

When his body finally calmed, he realized he was crowded into the back corner of the transport. Qrow had a hand clamped over his mouth, and his full weight was thrown into pinning Clover against the wall. Clover’s hands were trapped behind his back, and he could feel the beat of Qrow’s heart against his chest as the alpha held him in place. He let himself go lax, exhausted.

Qrow noticed the shift, and met his eyes. “Hey, Lucky Charm. You coming back to me?”

Clover nodded as much as he could. Qrow gave a relieved sigh as he removed his hand. “Sorry about that,” he said. “You were, uh…saying some things.”

“Sorry,” Clover said, his voice small and hoarse. He took a shuddering breath.

His heats were like this; intense waves of sexual compulsion followed by lulls of relative coherence. Depending on the partner, either extreme could be better or worse. Alone was the worst of all. James had probably been the _kindest_ heat he’d had. He’d been comforting in the lows and efficiently adept in the highs, playing Clover’s body like a fiddle. Hindsight had spoiled the experience somewhat, but still. Strung out and wanting as he was, it was tough to recall _why_ he’d been so set against a lifetime of heats with James.

Qrow brushed his hair from his sweaty forehead, smiling faintly. “They weren’t bad things.”

Oh. There it was.

The alpha shifted to let him up. Clover rolled his stiff wrists to encourage blood flow; apparently, he’d gotten a little handsy as well. His hormones had quieted a bit. The fever was still there, but he didn’t feel like he was about to _die_ if he didn’t have a knot in him, at least for now. His lower back ached, and as he pushed himself into more of a sitting position he grimaced at the slickness between his legs. A wave of shame and embarrassment rolled through his body. What in the Gods’ name was wrong with him? His heats had _never_ been this bad before.

It must have showed, either on his face or in his scent, because Qrow pulled him forward into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said. Clover buried his face in the alpha’s shoulder, terrified at the intensity of his reaction. Qrow murmured soft reassurances until his pulse slowed.

Eventually he calmed enough to look around. It didn’t seem like they were on a regular Manta; the ship was much smaller, more like a private transport. That was…unusual. He hoped it wasn’t stolen.

Jaune was closest to them, semblance activated, boosting both May and Lie Ren, who was masking their emotions. He was slightly concerned that they _needed_ to hide from Grimm if they were just flying to Mantle. But at least neither of them were alphas; Jaune was a beta, and Ren was a fellow omega. Weiss seemed to be doing okay, though, up at the cockpit leaning over…he actually couldn’t see who was flying. They were turned completely away from where he and Qrow were.

Clover let out a breath. He was going to have to have some conversations, particularly with young Ren. The boy was probably traumatized. “Qrow,” he said, “How many children did you bring on this little heist, anyway?”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Don’t get me started, this was the bare minimum. They pretty much all wanted to see you.”

His fingers tightened in Qrow’s cape. “Do they not teach Sex Ed at Beacon.”

Qrow chuckled. “Hey, it was your boy who wouldn’t put us in contact with May unless we let him come along.”

“My…?”

Clover peered around Qrow’s shoulder. Did he miss someone?

“Hey, boss!”

The co-pilot’s seat swung around and there was Marrow, not even pretending to not have heard their entire conversation. His scarf was wrapped tightly around his face, and his tail was wagging happily. He was wearing a Happy Huntress pin.

Clover knew Marrow, and he knew Marrow had a better nose than an entire _bottle_ of scent blockers could protect against, the little shit. True enough, there was a faint blush high on his dark cheeks. That was…also going to be a conversation, apparently.

He groaned, hiding behind Qrow. “Never mind. Take me back to the balcony. I need to jump.”

* * *

Clover had mostly collected himself by the time they landed. As the kids went out to make sure the coast was clear, he took a better look around. Through the hangar door, he could see a small but stately house, surrounded by a once grand but now slightly unkempt garden and a wide, circular drive, which they had landed in. They must be all the way on the outskirts of town; none of the lots close-in had this much space.

“Where exactly are we?”

Qrow shrugged. “Winter didn’t give me all the details, just told me to get you out. Apparently, we have some kind of mysterious benefactor who’s willing to provide support. The kids were supposed to move here last night. Seems a lot nicer than where we’ve _been_ staying, to be honest.”

Clover made a note to himself to get that story, eventually. The whole situation in Mantle was a total black box, now that he knew there were things James had just _lied_ to him about. A clean break, indeed.

“Winter planned all this?”

Qrow scoffed, shaking his head. “For…a few days, actually. Ice Queen’s gone full double agent. I didn’t know she had it in her.”

Clover did. Still, he couldn’t help but worry over her safety now that they’d crossed the Rubicon.

Marrow poked his head back in the door. “All clear, boss, you’re good to come in now.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he lingered, uncertain. Clover sighed. What the hell. It’s not like there was much left to be embarrassed about, at this point.

“Marrow,” he called. Marrow looked up, his tail twitching. “Thank you for coming.”

He opened his arms, beckoning the young alpha in for a hug. Qrow made a small noise of protest as Marrow rushed in, displacing him at Clover’s side. Clover wrapped his arms around the faunus, who squeaked in embarrassment but returned the gesture, tail wagging furiously.

“It wasn’t right, the way they treated you,” Marrow said, into his shoulder. “Between that and being ordered to arrest team RWBY…I couldn’t stay. Maybe that makes me a coward, but…”

Clover pulled back, looking him in the eye. For all his bluster and neediness, Marrow was probably the strongest of them all. He had an uncompromising moral center, built on kindness. Clover only wished he could be so sure of the right thing. “I think you’re very brave, Marrow. Much more than me.”

Marrow blushed, looking away. “I was just trying to make you proud.”

Qrow cleared his throat, putting a hand on the younger alpha’s shoulder. Was he…jealous?

“Yeah, thanks for the help, kid. Why don’t you go on inside?”

Marrow leapt back, coughing. Behind him, the pilot’s seat whirled around.

“I agree,” a familiar voice said. “If all the alphas could please step away from my baby cousin right now, that would be great.”

Clover looked up.

Cedar Ebi was standing in the cockpit, arms crossed.

* * *

Cedar was a little grayer and a little softer than the last time he’d seen him, but he still had a commanding enough military presence to unceremoniously shove _both_ alphas aside for their tearful reunion.

Marrow gave him a little salute as he rushed out, tail between his legs. Cedar jerked his thumb back at the retreating faunus. “That kid has a crush on you.”

Clover wiped his eyes with his sleeve, pulling away from the hug to swat his cousin on the back of the head. “Stop, he’s harmless. _How_ did you…wait, Qrow! Come back!”

Qrow was slinking toward the door himself, not wanting to interrupt. Clover beckoned him over. Warily, he approached.

“Qrow, there’s someone I want you to meet. This is my cousin, Cedar. The one I told you about, from Argus. Cedar, this is Qrow.”

Cedar stood and looked Qrow up and down, skeptically. Clover held his breath, suddenly nervous. It occurred to him that perhaps Qrow wasn’t making the best first impression, considering the state _Clover_ was in. But after a beat, Cedar extended his right hand to the alpha. “Good to meet you, Qrow. It sounds like I have a lot to thank you for.”

Clover let out his breath. Qrow took the offered hand, flushing. “It’s an honor. I’ve heard a lot about you. And really, there’s no need to thank me.”

Cedar just smiled, holding Qrow’s hand in a firm grasp. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

With his other hand, he punched Qrow in the face.

_“Cedar!”_

The alpha went down hard, his aura flickering. Cedar released him, raising his hands in peaceful surrender. Clover stared, open-mouthed, in shock.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” he said. Qrow moaned, sitting up and holding his jaw. Apparently, desk job or no, the old man still had it in him.

“Shrimp, I’m gonna need at least a year of therapy after what I just witnessed.”

Clover looked down at himself, cataloging the damage. His clothes were soaked through in spots with…he hoped, sweat. Thank the gods the joggers were black. His hair was a sweaty mess. There were _still_ bruises on his neck. He felt his face with the back of his hand; it was still burning. Fair enough.

“Qrow _helped_ me,” he clarified, annoyed. “Look, if there’s anyone you should punch, which I _wish you wouldn’t do_ , it wouldn’t be him, it would be…” he paused. “How much do you know?”

Cedar sighed. “Officially, I know Ironwood’s been giving me the runaround for the last month about you being dishonorably discharged. Unofficially…I heard a lot of rumors.”

“Oh,” Clover said. That was a nice way of putting it. “So you heard that James is…”

Cedar clenched his fists. Behind him, Qrow scooted back a bit. “I can’t _punch_ the General of Atlas, as much as I’d _like_ to do so. Among other things I’d like to do to him.”

Clover smiled. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I have a family to think about. I got so many kids, Shrimp.”

“You have two.”

Cedar shrugged, with a mysterious little smile. He turned back to Qrow, who had watched the entire exchange from the floor. He held his hand out. His left hand. “No hard feelings?”

Qrow hesitated.

“That’s his punching hand, you’re safe.” Clover said. Qrow took the hand, but avoided looking Cedar in the eye.

“Wait,” Clover said, “So are you the mysterious benefactor?”

Cedar shook his head. “Much as I’d like to claim that honor, I’m just the pilot. I was contacted yesterday by–you’ll never believe this, you know that awful Schnee woman? Who always yells at me for sticking letters in the supply runs? The one with a giant stick up her– “

Qrow cleared his throat, loudly. Cedar turned.

Winter was standing in the hangar doors.

“Winter!” Clover greeted.

Gods, it was good to see her. He would have been embarrassed at having a third member join this little party of defenders of his virtue, but at this point Winter had pretty much seen it all. She’d been witness to his inner life in that apartment, perhaps even more so than Qrow. And she had no skin in the game, other than pure platonic concern. It was a breath of fresh air, to be honest.

“Clover, Qrow,” she acknowledged. “Major Ebi,” she said, icily.

Cedar turned red, then saluted. Then bowed. “Specialist Schnee,” he said, half in his work voice, “I, uh…I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for, uh…for Shrimp here. I mean, Clover.”

Winter ignored him, turning to Clover. “I’m sorry for all the cloak and dagger, this all came together quite quickly. It’s…very good to see you.”

His breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t going to cry again. “You, too.”

So many people had come to help him. It was truly baffling. Much as it warmed his heart, it made him feel a little sick thinking of the risks Winter was taking, that _Cedar_ was taking. “Does James know that you…”

“I don’t think so.” Winter reassured him. “I was with him for most of the try-outs, and then Elm pulled him away for something; I didn’t even have to run interference. I just made it here, myself.”

“Good,” he sighed, relieved. There was still a question dancing on his tongue, but he was terrified to ask. He didn’t want to know, yet, what the reaction was to his disappearance. The image of James, enraged, gun in hand on the balcony was still too fresh.

“Let’s get you inside,” Winter said. “Can you walk?”

Clover blushed, turning to Qrow. “You…might have to carry me again.” He could probably control himself this time. Probably.

“Again?!” Cedar looked alarmed. “What? No. Shrimp, I’ll carry you.”

Clover gave him a skeptical look. “I don’t want you to hurt your back…”

“I’m not gonna get hurt. Just…c’mere.”

Cedar moved forward, as if to pick him up. Clover batted him away. This was stupid. Cedar once took a day of medical leave because he stepped on a _toy._ “No, you’re too old and feeble. Qrow can do it.”

Cedar sputtered, while Qrow looked uncertainly between them. Now that he thought about it, Qrow was definitely older than Cedar. By a good amount. But he was stronger. And he was ridiculously handsome. And he was so…

Clover’s heart fluttered.

“Are…you sure?” Qrow said. He probably didn’t want to get punched again.

“Yes. I want you,” Clover said, breathy. A little shudder ran down his spine as he stared at Qrow.

His heat might be starting up again, soon.

The two men exchanged looks. “All right, up you go,” Cedar said, lifting him with significant effort.

“Upstairs, last room on the left,” Winter directed him. “Qrow, if I could have a word with you for a moment?”

It wasn’t as fun as it would have been with Qrow, but save a portion of the walk where Cedar carried him _up a flight of stairs_ , he felt safe. Cedar had an earthy, comforting presence about him. It reminded him of lazy summer days, back when they were kids. Where whatever adventures that came along always wrapped in time for a late supper, the heat of the day fading as they sat out on the patio talking till dark.

He rested his head on his cousin’s shoulder. “Missed you…” he mumbled, burying his face in Cedar’s jacket. The fever ate away at his periphery, and the commotion around him dulled.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Cedar replied. There was a distinct hitch in his voice.

The room Cedar brought him to was nice, with a plush bed and its own adjoining bathroom. Actually, the whole house was nice. It was old–and rather compact–but well appointed, filled with tasteful antiques.

Cedar set him down on the bed, and helped him under the covers. It was probably unnecessary, he’d just kick them off in an hour or so anyway, but it felt nice to be cared for.

“I think I’m gonna sleep for a bit,” he mumbled, dizzy. He felt like he’d already been through the wringer, and it was only the first wave of his heat.

“Okay,” Cedar said, sitting on the bed and brushing his hair back. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

Clover hesitated. There was one thing he wanted, but…

Screw it, he decided. Might as well ask.

“Can you send Qrow in?”

“What do you think.” Cedar said, flatly.

Clover sat up. “Ce, I trust him. We have an…agreement.”

“What kind of an…nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

“Please? We’re not gonna do anything, I just don’t wanna wake up alone.”

There was a silence, in which Cedar was clearly debating something with himself. He made a face. “Do you…want _me_ to–“

“Absolutely not.” Clover interrupted. Gods, they would _both_ need therapy. Some things were not meant to be seen by family.

Cedar sighed, equal parts relieved and resigned. “Can I give him a shovel talk?”

Clover laid back down, knowing he’d won. He buried his face in the crisp fabric of the pillow. Cedar was such a sap. “Mmm-hmm. A really scary one. Tell him you’re going to give him…” he yawned, “…so much paperwork.”

“Funny.”

Another shiver ran through him. He closed his eyes as Cedar rubbed his back, the same way he would for Bianca or Rafe when they were sick. “Don’t rush into anything, okay? Clover?”

“Mmm…” Clover murmured. “It’s okay, he’s not like…” he trailed off, exhausted.

Clover thought he heard a sniffle, from beside him, before he fell asleep.

* * *

He hadn’t been sleeping long when the sound of the door opening woke him. It was Qrow. He hovered in the doorway, uncertain.

“Your cousin said you wanted to see me,” he said.

He only looked a little traumatized. Cedar must have gone easy on him. Clover propped himself up on his elbow, reaching out his other arm.

“Yeah, I…” he paused, taking a breath. “…Stay?”

Qrow’s eyes widened. “I thought you didn’t want me to, uh…”

“I don’t,” Clover said. “I will, eventually, but not today. But…I still thought you could stay. If that’s…okay with you.”

Clover couldn’t explain it. He probably shouldn’t want to be anywhere _near_ another alpha, for the rest of his life. But the day had been so chaotic, and his heats were so miserable, and he’d missed Qrow _so much._ Now that they could finally talk, and touch, he didn’t want to stop.

Qrow ducked his head, doubtful. “I thought you just meant until we could get you somewhere safe.”

“I didn’t. I meant longer.”

Qrow looked terrified. “Clover, I…”

He trailed off. Clover’s heart sunk. He lowered his gaze, feeling foolish. Of course, it was too much to ask. Qrow had already done so much for him, and what had he even done for Qrow? It was a ridiculous proposition to make to an alpha. “You don’t want to. That’s…okay. I’m sorry I– “

“That’s not it!”

Clover looked up, stunned. Qrow stepped forward, earnest.

“That’s not it. Cloves, you…you’re perfect, you know? And you deserve so much better. I just…I don’t want to hurt you, okay?”

“You won’t,” Clover said.

Qrow shook his head. “I already have.”

“I forgive you, then.” Clover’s vision blurred as he felt tears stinging his eyes, _again_ , for the love of the Brothers. “I don’t _care_ , Qrow, I just want you here, now will you _please_ stay?”

Qrow wrung his hands as he wrestled with his thoughts. Finally, he sighed.

“Gods, you…you’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

Clover held his hand out again. Qrow came forward, taking his hand and kneeling in front of the bed. Cupping his other hand to Clover’s cheek, he leaned in, kissing the tears away. When he pulled back, meeting Clover’s eyes, he gazed at him like a man seeking benediction.

“What do you need me to do?” Qrow asked.

Clover considered the question. He hadn’t actually tried this before. But just knowing that he wouldn’t be _alone_ was a comfort. “Just…be here. It’s easier when there’s an alpha in the room. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Qrow answered.

Clover paused, flushing. “I might…say some stuff, again.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of Qrow’s mouth. “Yeah?”

“And…do some stuff. To myself.”

Clover squirmed. He wasn’t used to talking about things like this. Usually he just presented himself and let the chips fall where they may. It was awkward, but he had to be realistic about what he was asking for.

Qrow cast his eyes to the ceiling, briefly, as if saying a prayer for strength. “Anything else?”

He continued, rambling nervously. “Honestly, I never know what really happens when I’m in it that deep. But I trust you, okay? And…if it gets to be too much you can just…turn into a bird, if you want.”

Qrow chuckled, some of the tension breaking. “Good to know.”

“And you can…I mean, the rules from before still hold. That would be…nice.”

“Above the belt, no neck?” Qrow said. There was a playful gleam in his eyes. He looked like he was about to exercise that particular privilege at any moment.

Clover swallowed. “Uh-huh.”

Instead, Qrow brushed his hair back, innocently. “Do you want to try to sleep for a bit? I woke you up.”

As if he _could_ , with Qrow looking at him like that. Still, the other man was right. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

Gods, that was such a pathetic thing to say. But Qrow only nodded, sitting next to him on the bed. He pushed his fingers through Clover’s hair, messing the strands and then coaxing each back into place, not unlike how he’d done as Crow. Clover settled back down, closing his eyes, and let the repetitive comfort of it lull him into sleep. 

* * *

Clover woke, hours later.

Hot. It was hot. He was so fucking hot, he was burning up.

He sat up, throwing the covers aside and stripping off his shirt. It barely helped. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and he moaned, miserable. He threw himself back onto the bed, panting.

There was movement beside him, and the unmistakable smell of _alpha_ , and then Qrow was there, once again kneeling by the bed. The light was dim; it must have been late in the day, and the waning sun backlit the other man, his expression obscured by shadow. “Qrow,” he moaned. “Qrow, I need you to…I need you…”

“Shhh,” Qrow said, brushing his hair back. “You asked me not to, remember?”

“I…”

He tried to remember, tried to think of how he’d even _gotten_ here, but his mind kept shorting out.

“Back at the apartment,” Qrow murmured. His voice was like honey, the low rumble of it sinking into his skin. “I promised you.”

Clover breathed deep, orienting himself. Right. Qrow. He’d told him…oh, this was a mistake. It was a mistake, because Clover was about to _die._

“I change my mind, now I want you to,” he blurted. He rocked his hips into the mattress, needing something, anything.

“Tch,” Qrow chided. “I can’t go back on my word, Lucky Charm. I can…try to make you feel better, though, if you want?”

Clover nodded frantically.

There was the sound of water, and then Qrow was pressing a cool washcloth to his shoulder blade. Clover cried out, his hips jerking. The shock of it ran through him, sending electric pulses straight to his core. Qrow soothed the skin with his hand, warming it, then leaned over to kiss the same spot. Another press of the washcloth, at the base of his spine, had him sobbing.

“Qrow,” he panted. “If you keep that up, I’m gonna...”

The musky smell of alpha intensified. At least he knew he wasn’t the only one suffering, here.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“ _Gods_ , no.”

Qrow leaned in, close enough that he could see his face through the low light. Clover pulled him in for a needy kiss, moaning into the alpha’s mouth. Their eyes met as Qrow pulled back. He looked _wrecked._

Clover watched, desperate, as Qrow dipped the cloth back into the water, wringing it out. “Okay,” he said, voice dangerously low. “Then, do it.”

All in all, it ended up being one of his better heats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Advisor: I don't have anything new to talk about and I don't want to spread coronavirus, so why don't we cancel this week.  
> Me: Thank god, I was not prepared for that meeting. Ugh, if only I didn't have to teach all these extra review sessions.  
> University: All classes are canceled. Don't come back till the end of April.  
> Me: Wow, I'm gonna have so much time for research! 
> 
> Also me: *writes nearly 6000 words of fanfiction*


	10. Fearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Braintrust reassembles, with a few new members. Clover goes outside. Qrow is a cinnamon roll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIED, OKAY. This chapter ended up being an ABSOLUTE UNIT, so I split it into two. Blame these characters, for having so many EMOTIONS. Now I have to end on 11 chapters, which is a much less satisfying number. *sigh* Actual finale should be up tomorrow.

Clover would have very much enjoyed being around people again if only he could look any of them in the eye.

All told, it took almost three days for his heat to pass, from the first flush the morning of the Ace Op tryouts to late last night, when he’d come out of the last wave. Qrow had been the perfect gentleman, bringing him food and water and making sure he got enough rest. He’d also done some…less polite, but frankly quite creative things. When he woke, the morning after the fever finally broke, Clover felt his neck, paranoid–but there were no cuts in the skin, nor was there any additional pain, nor was he especially sore aside from an all-around exhaustion. Qrow had been true to his word.

Which is to say, it had been a supremely weird experience.

After a much-needed shower and a fresh set of clothes, Clover was itching to leave the bedroom. Except Qrow was still asleep. It was early, and he didn’t _hear_ any commotion yet. But the weeks alone with James had left him feeling strangely agoraphobic. He’d been so hyper-focused on his heat during the escape that he hadn’t really processed the fact that he’d be staying in a house with Qrow and his _eight kids_ and _who knows who else_ , all of whom would have–thanks to the absolute _scene_ he’d made on the airship–at least _some_ kind of idea what Qrow had been _doing_ to him these last few days. Not to mention the inevitable presumptions on what _James_ had been doing to him for the last _month_. Compound all of that with what he’d _actually_ done to _himself_ while Qrow _watched_ –and worse, _talked_ –and how much more ridiculously intimate it had felt than what was presumably _supposed_ to happen. He had no idea what had possessed him to ask Qrow for…for _that_ , but now that he had, he rather wanted to do it again.

It was all just a bit much to consider, the end result being that Clover stood in front of the bedroom door indecisively for at least fifteen minutes before going to wake Qrow.

The other man was sleeping peacefully, his face slack and his salt and pepper hair feathered out on the pillow. Clover knelt down and went to nudge his shoulder, then pulled his hand back at the last second. Didn’t Qrow deserve to get some rest? The heat couldn’t have been easy for him, either. And he’d been so…so…

His mind skittered off of that track. He wasn’t sure what it meant yet. He looked back at the door.

No. Clover could…he could go outside. Alone. If he wanted to. Which he did. He could walk right out the front door, if he felt like it. Maybe he should.

“I can _hear_ you thinking.”

Clover leapt back with a yelp, landing on his ass next to the bed. Qrow had one eye open, studying him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, voice rough with sleep.

“Nothing.”

Qrow frowned. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I was gonna get some breakfast,” he blurted out.

There was a pause. “I’m…pretty sure you’re not gonna find any down there.”

Clover scrambled to his feet. “Right. So. I’ll just…” he moved toward the door. Qrow watched him. Clover paused. “Do you want anything? I can…cook.”

Qrow groaned, evidently deciding that this was something he needed to pay attention to. He scrubbed his face with his hand, yawning. “What _time_ is it?”

Clover looked around. There was no clock in the room, and he had no scroll. Time was meaningless. He glanced, uselessly, out the window, where the sun had only just risen. 

Qrow groaned again. “Give me fifteen minutes,” he said, hauling himself out of bed. As if Clover had any waypoint as to how long that would be.

By the time Qrow had showered and changed, Clover was an even bigger wreck of anxiety. He’d tried to tidy up, searching the room for a spare set of sheets, and finding none had debated for several minutes whether he should go into the hall to look. When _that_ had ultimately been aborted in frustration, he’d kind of…half-made the current bed, despite the fact that _his_ side, at least, was…sticky. After that he defaulted to fidgeting with the hem of his shirt while staring out the window like an absolute idiot.

It wasn’t anything he was particularly proud of, and he was thinking about how much he would love to just jump out of his own skin when Qrow came up behind him and wrapped him in his arms.

Clover stiffened, automatically. Qrow pulled back.

“Sorry, I…I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Clover shook his head. “I’m not startled.”

Qrow frowned. He had this sort of sad, guilty look on his face, as he searched Clover’s expression. “Clover…”

Clover grabbed his hand, as if offering this one body part in tribute. “Nothing’s wrong. Breakfast?”

He was acting absolutely insane, and he knew it but he couldn’t stop. Qrow studied him for a while, before nodding. “Okay.”

Qrow squeezed his hand, then led him step by step into the hallway as if that were a normal thing people did. Clover tried to conceal the rush of air from his lungs when they crossed the threshold, slowly letting out his breath as they descended the stairs to the elegant foyer below. A glance at the grandfather clock confirmed that it was indeed ridiculously early.

Of _course_ , no one else was up yet. They walked through the foyer, past a compact but formal dining room, to an impressively well-equipped kitchen. Clover let out a low whistle, distracted by the enormous range, double ovens, and well-loved butcher block counter in the center of the room. It was perfect for baking, and he ran his hand over the wood in appreciation. On the wall was a magnetic strip with a variety of knives, probably in need of a good honing but high quality nonetheless. Copper pots and pans hung from a rack above the island. In the far corner was a hefty wood table, with benches set into the wall, offering a much cozier place to enjoy a meal. It had been a while since this room had been extensively used, but it was obvious that someone who loved to cook had designed this place. The worn wood of the counters and cabinetry was such a shift from the cool slate modernism of James’s apartment that he paused, considering.

Knowing who’d organized this whole thing, Clover had a pretty decent idea who their mysterious benefactor might be. He just hadn’t known what kindred spirits they were.

Releasing Qrow, his anxiety all but forgotten, Clover started poking through the refrigerator and cabinets. The pantry was well stocked. Perhaps in anticipation of their arrival, someone had done a great deal of shopping. He supposed Ren must have been doing most of the cooking thus far. Much as he hated to admit to conforming to an omega stereotype, he supposed it was something all three of them shared. Blake, he suspected, was the exception that proved the rule. The faunus didn’t seem much inclined toward domestic tasks at all.

He started putting together a plan. “What time do you think the kids will get up?” he asked.

Qrow settled at the kitchen island, content to watch him work. “Maybe two hours, give or take.”

Okay. That was just enough time. Ren would probably be up relatively early, and Ruby would be buzzing with energy as soon as she smelled food. Oscar would be either first or last, depending on if his farmhand brain beat out his teenage one. Ren and Oscar he could put to work, and Ruby would be easily distracted if he had something for her to snack on right away. Then the rest of the kids, after. Weiss with her warmth and efficiency. Nora with her boundless energy and bottomless appetite. Jaune with his sleepy enthusiasm. Yang and Blake, last, holding on to the vestiges of a dream life.

“Okay,” he said. “First, coffee.”

* * *

Qrow didn’t help much. The Huntsman admitted that, considering his semblance, he’d never been especially adept at cooking. But there was no need for him to do so; once Clover had located the basic supplies, he had it all on lock-down. Qrow either watched, silently sipping his coffee at the island, or slept, head pillowed on his arms. Clover made a little wish for the state of the alpha’s back as he worked, snagging Qrow’s scroll out of his pocket so he could look up a couple recipes and play some music. Little red alerts with news reports flashed on the home screen; he ignored them, humming along to his favorite songs instead. Not today, he thought.

He started with cinnamon rolls. It was a bit over the top, but he couldn’t _not_ bake something in a kitchen this gorgeous. The yeast would need time to rise, so he started the dough as soon as the coffee pot had turned on. As he worked the dough with his hands, kneading it on the butcher block, he considered the rest of the meal. Pancakes he could make and keep warm, in the oven. Same with bacon and sausage. He could cut up some fruit, for balance. Eggs were probably best scrambled at the last second. He’d prep the eggs and then cook them once the kids woke. All the while, the cinnamon rolls would need proofing, rolling, then proofing again, before baking and glazing. If he’d planned it right, though, there were very few elements that needed to be prepared at the same time.

By the time Ren woke up, he was already forming the cinnamon rolls–spreading the butter and sugar mixture and coaxing the dough into a delicate spiral.

“Good morning,” he said, trying not to think of the horribly traumatic example he’d just set for the young omega. Qrow was snoring softly on the counter, oblivious. “We’re about an hour out, apparently, wanna help?” 

Ren cut him some slack. He politely declined coffee but accepted tea, then got to work. He washed and sliced the fruit efficiently, tossing it together in a bowl with a hint of sugar and lemon. They worked well together, Ren tempering some of Clover’s improvisational energy but rolling with the punches when he decided to, say, experimentally candy half the bacon with brown sugar and black pepper.

He should have known that the smell of bacon would be what drew in Ruby Rose. She burst into the kitchen in a whirlwind of petals, which Clover has to pick out of the pancake batter. And a new addition: Penny Polendina. That was…a surprise. The Protector of Mantle didn’t need to eat, but she _did_ like to talk, happily chatting with him as he showed them how to make cream cheese frosting for the cinnamon rolls.

He set them up, making sure everything was the right temperature so there would be no lumps, then handed them a sifter and instructed them to add sugar to taste. Ren looked on skeptically as Clover set the bag of powdered sugar in front of the excitable girls. Awake now, Qrow sent him a look of panic, shaking his head frantically.

Luckily, Weiss was up just in time to halt any major disasters. “Ugh, what are you _doing?_ ” she said, yanking the bag of sugar away just as Ruby was about to upend the entire thing into the bowl. “That’s _way_ too much.”

Clover tasted the resulting frosting. It _was_ sweet, but not unforgivably so. He cast about the kitchen. It just needed…there. Squeeze of lemon. Pinch of salt. Splash of vanilla. It was perfect. “Good job, girls,” he said, swiping his finger through for a final taste. Qrow watched him lick frosting from his pinky, in awe.

Weiss blushed a bit as he addressed her, but accepted the compliment. She guarded the remaining sugar as she made a fresh pot of coffee for everyone, navigating the kitchen with familiar ease. Hmm. More support for his theory.

Nora, he put to work flipping pancakes, not even caring that half of them ended up in her mouth. He’d already accounted for it in scaling the recipe. Ren blushed a little as she showed off for him, and Clover and Qrow exchanged looks. Qrow shrugged with one shoulder. It wasn’t like they had a lot of room to talk. Clover winked as he bent over to pull the cinnamon rolls from the oven. Qrow choked on his coffee.

Jaune was just in time to set the table and heat up maple syrup, while Clover spread the not-ruined frosting on the cinnamon rolls. Blake and Yang emerged, hands joined, rubbing the sleep from their eyes just as Clover was cooking the eggs. Yang punched his arm in greeting, which honestly kind of hurt. Blake gave him a bittersweet smile, looking like she wanted to say something, but then decided against it. He made some eggs with smoked salmon and chives, just for her.

Oscar had to be roused by Jaune before a revolt started. Teenager brain had won today, which was…it was really for the best.

When all the kids had their food, Qrow bumped Clover’s shoulder with his own. They were sitting side by side at the kitchen island, while the kids laughed uproariously at something Nora had done at the table. “Not bad, Lucky Charm.”

Clover’s smile faltered. His mind, which had been blissfully focused on the task at hand, swerved dangerously into any available corners it saw. He thought of James, the night of the pseudo-heat. Was that what Qrow wanted, a surrogate for _his_ surrogate children? Did Qrow want _more_ kids? Of course, he had two nieces already, but most alphas wanted their _own_ offspring, and maybe he thought that Clover would–

“Cloves? Hey, come back to me, okay?”

Clover blinked. His heart was going about a mile a minute. “Mmm-hmm?” he murmured, playing it off as if he wasn’t having a complete cardiovascular breakdown.

“You feeling okay? You’ve barely eaten anything.”

Clover looked down at his plate. He could have sworn he’d been hungry for it, at some point. He shrugged, useless. “You know that thing where you cook a lot, and then by the time it’s done you’re not that hungry…”

“ _Clover.”_

He wondered if Qrow was about to turn into a bird and peck at him. Actually, maybe that would be preferable, because then he wouldn’t have to look at Qrow and think about Qrow looking at _him_ , and how much he kind of wanted both those things quite a bit.

As a peace offering, he picked up his cinnamon roll, tearing off the edge of the spiral. It had a perfect, feathery texture. He considered his handiwork, as he ate; the bun was soft and not too sweet, the bite of cinnamon spice cutting through the eggy richness. It was really, _really_ good. The rest of his breakfast could congeal for all he cared, _this_ was the thing he actually wanted. He devoured the whole bun.

Qrow was still studying him when he looked up, but his expression had shifted into a kind of helpless desire. His good mood restored by pastry, Clover idly licked frosting from his fingers in a pathetically obvious display.

“You’ve, uh…” Qrow started, clearing his throat. “Got kind of a sweet tooth, huh.”

Clover grinned, sheepishly. It was…warm in here, wasn’t it? Maybe his heat was having some lingering effects? “I know it’s not the healthiest habit, but I’ve always…what?”

Qrow was staring intently at his mouth. “You’ve got…can I?” He reached out his hand.

Clover nodded, dumbly.

Qrow swiped his thumb over Clover’s lower lip, wiping away a bit of frosting. As he went to pull back, Clover caught his wrist. The alpha froze, entranced, as Clover, possessed by who _knows_ what, leaned in and _sucked_ the frosting from his hand. He caressed the sensitive pad of Qrow’s thumb with his tongue, tasting the sweet and slightly tangy frosting. As he withdrew, the wet smack of his lips on Qrow’s skin made an absolutely filthy sound. A triumphant thrill ran through him as Qrow met his eyes, shocked.

This was probably going to be a thing.

“Uncle Qrow!”

 _That_ killed the mood. They sprung apart as Ruby waved her arms, trying to get their attention. “Tell everyone about the time you fought a whole pack of– “

Yang pulled her back down. “Don’t bug them, they’re flirting.”

Qrow turned red. Yang _winked_ at them, clearly having seen the whole exchange. Nora mumbled something that might have contained the words “eye-fucking.” Ruby looked confused. Clover cleared his throat.

“So, what have you kids been getting up to while I’ve been…” he trailed off. _‘…upstairs touching myself while your Uncle talks dirty to me,’_ his mind supplied. “…away?” he finished.

Blessedly, no one dug too deeply into that. “There’s still a lot of Grimm in the city, especially this close to the wall,” Jaune supplied. “We’re waiting until the situation stabilizes before moving on to Vacuo.”

Weiss sighed, shaking her head. “This neighborhood really has gone downhill.”

Ah, he’d been right. “I’m guessing this is your family’s place, Weiss?”

Weiss nodded, always proud of a chance to share her knowledge. “My mother’s. It’s the old Schnee house. It predates Atlas; the war, even. It was one of the first major buildings constructed in Mantle. We’ve never lived here, but my mother’s always been fond of it. I guess she and Winter used to come here a lot when we were kids.”

He was itching to meet Willow Schnee. What a fascinating woman.

“You’ll have to thank her, for me. It’s…very kind, for her to let me stay here.” Clover looked around. They were all so young and hopeful. “Thank you all. For helping me.”

“You’re the one who helped us, back in Atlas,” Ruby said. Her silver eyes were warm and earnest. She glanced over at Qrow. “All of us.”

Clover ducked his head, picking at his fruit. These kids were too much, he didn’t know how Qrow put up with it all the time. Seriously, he was done with crying.

“Plus, you made this AWESOME breakfast!” Nora exclaimed, saving him from himself. “Seriously, I could get used to this.”

Qrow cleared his throat, clapping Clover on the shoulder. “Well, get used to dish duty, kid. Clover and I were up at six making food for you all. You can pay us back by cleaning up.”

There was a chorus of groans around the table. Clover felt a little offended at that; the kitchen wasn’t even _that_ dirty, he’d been cleaning as he went. And Qrow hadn’t done anything, unless being sexually distracting counted. He raised an eyebrow at the other man. Qrow winked, conspiratorially, his thumb rubbing faintly against Clover’s shoulder.

That was…fine with him, actually. Qrow could take some of the credit if it meant they could spend more time together. He wondered if there was a yard or something they could spar in; he was rusty and he needed to brush up. They should probably talk, too; they were due for quite a few conversations, now that Qrow was just Qrow and Clover wasn’t in heat.

Qrow’s hand moved a little lower on Clover’s back. On second thought, maybe they could just go upstairs and–

“You make all this, Shrimp?”

Qrow pulled his hand back like he’d been burned.

Family was truly the worst.

* * *

The Ebis excused themselves to the back garden to talk while the kids cleaned up breakfast, leaving a mournful Qrow to supervise the whole affair.

Cedar, it turned out, had been quietly assigning himself to supply runs all month to try and figure out what happened to him. It was, as Winter would have put it, a flagrant abuse of power. Granted, the role of the law had greyed uncomfortably for all three of them in the last few months. Clover’s annoyance at being sidetracked from a morning of fooling around dissipated somewhat, as he realized the four-hour roundtrip commute Cedar had been doing every time he came to Atlas. The little niggling feeling of anxiety started creeping back into his mind.

“Does…does James know that _you_ know that I…” Clover made a face. “Ugh, you know what I mean. Are you in danger?”

Cedar shook his head, ruffling Clover’s hair. “You know how much acting it takes to burst into Ironwood’s office twice a week and demand to know where you are? None. I’m still pissed. Trust me, he’s not picking anything up. The bastard.”

Clover sighed. It was a wonder Cedar hadn’t been reprimanded, but at least _treason_ wasn’t on the table. “Well, thanks. Just…be safe, okay? And tell Val I’m sorry, for keeping you away so much.”

Cedar shrugged him off. “We run about eight of these things a day. No one’s gonna notice I’m here. And Val _made_ me. I swear, some days she likes you more than she likes me. The only rough patch was when I had to stay overnight to bust you out, which I assure you I will be paying for, down the line.”

Clover smiled, sympathetically. “Ah, so you owe her a romantic weekend?”

“No,” Cedar said. “I owe her a weekend in the house, alone. I got so many kids, Shrimp.”

Clover rolled his eyes at the familiar banter. “You have two.”

Cedar looked down, sheepish.

“…three, soon.”

Clover took a moment for that to sink in, and then he smacked Cedar on the back of the head. “You left your pregnant wife to come _here?”_

“Ow, stop! She _made_ me, like I said! You don’t know how scary she is, Shrimp. Relax, Faye’s with her and the kids.”

“Faye’s In Mistral?” It was one thing after another. Clover’s head spun.

“I know, right? The prodigal daughter returns.” Cedar puffed out his chest, polishing his nails on his jacket. “I might as well go on my own little sojourn, if you ask me. Rescue _your_ idiot ass.”

Clover didn’t even take the bait. He grinned like an idiot. “You’re having another kid.”

Cedar grinned back at him. He looked like the luckiest man in the world. “Mmm-hmm. Another girl.”

“I’m gonna be an uncle, again. I’m gonna have another niece.”

“I look forward to the lasagna,” Cedar said.

Clover laughed. He opened his arms. “All right, old man, congratulations or whatever.” He pulled Cedar into a hug, clapping his shoulder in appreciation. “When do I owe you this lasagna? My schedule is very busy, if you couldn’t tell.”

Cedar pulled back, the smile falling from his face. “That’s, uh…kinda the thing, Shrimp. We might be due in about a month. Well, not might. We are.”

Clover’s jaw dropped. He counted backwards, doing the math. “A _month?_ You didn’t think to put that in, oh I don’t know, _any of your letters?_ ”

Cedar held his hands out. “I know, I’m sorry. We should have told you. At first we were just kind of…waiting to make sure it was real.”

Ah. They’d been trying, for a while. Clover felt his heart go out to both of them, his expression softening. “And then?”

Cedar shrugged. “You were so busy with work, we didn’t want you to worry. We knew the situation wasn’t great, here. And _I_ knew you’d feel guilty for not coming to visit. So, we sat on it for a bit. And then you disappeared.”

“That’s why Faye’s back. So you could come…” Clover trailed off. Faye had dual citizenship, same as Cedar. But she was a Huntress in Vacuo, not a Major in the Atlesian military. She couldn’t move in and out of the borders the same way Cedar could. Clover buried his head in his hands. “I’m really sorry, Ce, I fucked up.”

Cedar sighed. “Look, don’t worry about it. It’s over now. I can take you home.”

Clover paused, confused. “Home?”

“To Argus,” Cedar said, as if he was stating something obvious.

Clover blinked. “Argus isn’t my home. _This_ is my home.”

“I…” Cedar paused. “Okay, yes, technically I misspoke, Argus is _my_ home. But I can take you there. Today. I can sneak you back in a supply run, Shrimp, that’s the _whole reason_ I’m here.”

“Why would I go?” Clover said, frowning. It wasn’t even a question. “There’s work to do here. I can help, Ce.”

“Why would you–Shrimp. Seriously.”

“What?”

“Why would you _go?”_ Cedar threw up his hands, pacing around the yard. “Why _wouldn’t_ you go? You’re a _rogue omega_ now. If they catch you again they’re either gonna stick you in one of those awful reformatories or they’ll send you right back to that asshole Ironwood!”

“It won’t be forever,” Clover said. “Qrow and the kids are moving on to Vacuo, soon. I’ll go with them when they do.”

“And until then?”

Clover shrugged. “I’ll…lay low,” he lied. As if he had any intention of staying inside the house when there were Grimm outside that he was itching to fight. Besides, the kids were still out there protecting the city, and _they_ hadn’t been arrested yet. Clearly, the warrants were a joke.

“Sure,” Cedar said, unconvinced. “Shrimp, I can’t wait, I’m sorry, not with Val so close to the due date. I can give you _one day._ Say your goodbyes, I’ll come back tomorrow. And then we’re leaving.”

Clover bristled. “No. Cedar, you don’t get to make this decision for me.”

“ _Clover_ , you’re not thinking clearly. You just got out of a bad situation, and you’re jumping right into another one. I’m not leaving you here to get sucked back in by that psychopath just because this new guy gets you all– “

Cedar paused.

Clover clenched his fists. “All what?” he ground out.

“I’m sorry. That’s…I was way out of line. I didn’t mean it.”

“No, by all means, finish the sentence!” Clover shouted.

Cedar pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. Really. I’m just…concerned, okay, that you’re putting your life in danger for this person that you don’t even really know all that well. Take some time, come hang out in Argus for a couple months. Gods know we could use the help. Think it over, Shrimp, and if you still feel the same way I’ll sneak you back into Atlas myself.”

Clover fumed, as mad at himself as he was at his cousin. Cedar had never said ‘I told you so,’ after the heat with James. He’d just been there, to pick up the pieces. He could understand his cousin’s concern but he still _hated_ that he did.

“Qrow’s not like that. Really. He’s _nice._ ”

“Of course, I’m sure he is.” Cedar said. “I’m not saying he’s not. Just that this is all pretty new.”

“I trust him.” Clover said, defiant. It was all the same arguments he gave for every other alpha, but he didn’t know how else to put it other than to double down.

Cedar gave him a sad smile. “You always do, is the thing.”

Clover had nothing to say to that, so he stared at the floor, concentrating on his breathing.

“Look,” Cedar said. “Just ask yourself, before you sacrifice everything for this guy, if he would do the same thing for you. Will you just…think about that?”

Breathe in.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, okay? Shrimp?”

Breathe out.

“ _Fine._ ”

“Okay. Good. I’ll see you then. Just…think about it, please.”

Clover dismissed the idea, as soon as his cousin was out the door. Cedar didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. He was staying.

* * *

He narrowly avoided being run over by a pack of teenagers on his way back into the house.

“Sorry!” Jaune called, as Clover flattened himself against the wall. Nora was already outside, with Ruby in a headlock. “Cedar said you were done out here. We were gonna do some training, wanna join us? We could use your expertise.”

At least these kids knew what he was capable of. Finally, some respect.

“Yeah!” Ruby shouted, struggling futile against Nora’s vice grip. “Maybe you could convince Uncle Qrow to join, too. He never wants to fight us!”

It…sounded pretty fun, actually. “You kids get started. I’ll see if I can find him.” Clover said, stepping back inside.

Blake and Yang apparently didn’t need to train, because they were in the study giggling about something as he walked past. It was sweet, how close those two were, but it worried him a bit. He hoped they were being careful. Teenage hormones could be dangerous. He frowned as he turned into the foyer, lost in thought.

Qrow, he _did_ run into.

“Oof! Sorry.”

Qrow took it in stride, catching himself easily on the staircase railing. His face lit up as he saw it was Clover who’d almost knocked him over, shifting into a wry smile. “All right, take it easy, Lucky Charm. How was your talk with your cousin?”

“Hmm?” Clover said. He’d been staring at the little dip in the front of Qrow’s shirt, thinking of the lean muscle beneath it. “Oh, fine.”

Qrow frowned. “Yeah?”

“Yup,” Clover said, smiling. “He just had some dumb idea.” Clover brushed his anxiety aside. Cedar was completely wrong about Qrow.

Clover stepped in close, using his body to block Qrow in against the staircase as he fiddled with the tails of the alpha’s vest. “Anyway, now that he’s gone, do you wanna…”

He tilted his head, indicating up the stairs. Qrow visibly swallowed. Clover worried his lower lip with his teeth, eyes hooded, waiting for him to get with the program. Belatedly, he remembered the kids asking to train with them. They might be waiting a while.

“Winter’s here.” Qrow blurted.

That wasn’t really the response he was looking for. 

“In the kitchen,” Qrow said, slinking out from around him. “We, uh, we should talk to her. You’ll never believe what she’s doing.”

He offered his hand, apologetically. Clover took it with a sigh. Fine, business first.

Winter was in the–now _relatively_ clean–kitchen, eating a cinnamon roll with a _fork and knife_ , of all things. Qrow stared at her, judging her impeccable table manners in detached disgust, then sent Clover a look of disbelief. Clover didn’t want to throw any stones regarding cleanliness, but he _did_ think his way was better. Especially if Qrow was around.

“These are excellent,” she said, oblivious to Qrow’s judgement. “Clover, I didn’t even know you baked.”

It was so ridiculous that the residual anger from talking to Cedar washed out of him in a whoosh. “Winter,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he sat across from her. “I baked everything I fed to you.”

“Oh,” Winter said, surprised. “Well, you’re very talented. Did Major Ebi tell you the plan?”

 _That_ wasn’t the response he was looking for, either. Clover looked to Qrow, betrayed.

“I only just found out that part,” Qrow said, hands up. “But it’s not…a bad idea, per se.”

Clover was in a terrible bind, because the fact that Qrow was _telling him to leave_ effectively disproved Cedar while also driving him absolutely insane.

“Atlas has no jurisdiction over omega affairs beyond its borders,” Winter explained. “Once you leave the Kingdom, you’re free. And the other Kingdoms aren’t nearly as draconian. We’re back on track to finish Amity within the next couple months, now that Vacuo is providing support. Once global communications are re-established, we can coordinate on a _global_ response to Salem, with you included. But as long as you remain here, you’ll be in danger.”

She…had a point, about the laws. Clover frowned, trying to talk his way out of agreeing with her. “How serious are those warrants, though? I understand that you haven’t been able to openly support Weiss, and I’m sorry, that _is_ terrible, but are we seriously going to prioritize omega laws when we’re at _war?”_

Winter and Qrow exchanged looks. It was the escape plan all over again.

“Remember who you’re talking about, Cloves.”

“Have you told him?” Winter asked.

Qrow shook his head. “Not yet.”

Were they seriously still hiding things from him? Clover rolled his eyes. “I’m not an invalid!” he snapped. “And I’m not about to faint like some omega in the movies. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

“Relax,” Qrow said. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you. It just didn’t seem worth bringing up while you were…” he gestured vaguely. Clover sighed, a flush of red creeping up his neck. A bit of the anger drained out of him, replaced by embarrassment and guilt.

Okay. He could hear them out. He wasn’t going to have the same response as last time.

Winter sighed. “The General put out another alert for Qrow’s arrest. He…seems to be under the impression you’ve been kidnapped. It’s nothing we didn’t expect, but you should know before you make any decisions.”

Clover frowned. “Kidnapped?”

It hadn’t been his plan for everything to go down the way it had, but still…he thought he’d been pretty clear. Sure, it’s not like he left a note or anything. But the bandanna, the fight…James had looked him _right in the eye_.

“Oh, no…” he groaned. “Weiss, and May. I’m so sorry, Winter. I shouldn’t have pulled that stunt when we were flying off.”

Qrow shook his head. “That’s…the thing. He hasn’t said anything about them, as far as we know. Just me.”

Clover frowned. “But…he got a good look at them both. Maybe May he wouldn’t know on sight, but Weiss? He _knows_ it wasn’t just you.”

“Regardless,” Winter said, sighing. “Both your faces are all over Mantle, now. There’s been a broadcast every hour. I’m afraid it’s going to be hard for either of you to move freely, outside of this house. This is an escalation. Even the Ace Ops are looking for you.”

Clover’s heart sunk. To have done so much, only to end up exactly where he started. He turned to Qrow, hurt. “So what, you think I should go to Argus? Just run away?”

Qrow sighed, exasperated. “I didn’t say that, okay? If you want to stay, then I’ll support that. But you and I both know Jimmy’s got a screw loose. He’ll probably order every bird in Atlas shot down by the end of the week.”

Clover considered it. He held out his hand. “Give me your scroll.”

“What? Why?”

“I want to see what he said,” Clover explained. He gestured again. “Your scroll?”

Qrow hesitated. “Is that really gonna make a difference?”

“I need to know what I’m up against,” Clover countered. Winter looked between them, nervously. “Don’t baby me on this, Qrow. Give. Me. Your. Scroll.”

Qrow handed it over. “Okay, but just keep in mind– “

“Be quiet, please.”

Clover opened the scroll. The news alerts that he’d flipped past that morning flashed red. He was an idiot for not noticing earlier. He tapped the most recent one.

**_Citizens of Mantle, please be on alert:_ **

That… _voice_.

He dropped the scroll. It clattered as it fell to the counter, the display flickering, but it kept on playing.

**_Qrow Branwen, wanted for the kidnapping of my omega, Clover Ebi, is still at large._ **

Both their pictures hovered over the table. Qrow’s mugshot, Clover in his Ace Ops uniform.

**_Consider him extremely dangerous. If you see this man, please report him to the authorities immediately._ **

Gods, there was _video_ , too. He couldn’t look away, as James’s face appeared before him.

**_Finally…Clover, if you’re out there, please hold on. I promise I’ll find you, and I will bring you home._ **

Silence.

Winter studied him, waiting. Qrow slowly reached out a hand, palm up, asking permission.

Clover pushed himself away from the counter, rushing to his feet. “I can’t do this right now,” he said. He felt sick.

With that, he marched upstairs as fast as he could, shut himself into their room, locked the door, and turned, leaning against the closed door as he sunk to the floor. James’s deep voice played on repeat in his head.

_I **promise** I’ll find you. I **will** bring you home. You are **mine**._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof, what a week it's been. I can't pretend the news hasn't affected my writing. This week has been a madness of terrible news, concern for loved ones, and the scramble to adjust to the new normal. I'm sorry this took a bit longer than previous chapters have, but the end of _this_ story, at least, is in sight, with a happy ending. Stay safe, you guys.


	11. Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gets their word in. Clover listens to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God damn it, it's 12 chapters now. This one I truly was going to release as one massive unit, if only so I would actually finish the whole thing. But, for posterity it would work better as two. So! Strap in for a double feature!

He was surprised that it was Blake, not Qrow, who came to talk to him.

Clover didn’t know much about the faunus, other than what was in her file. Which was…extensive, to be fair. But they hadn’t had _too_ many personal conversations, at least one on one. She was always attached at the hip with Yang.

But as his breath hitched at the soft knock on the door, he was at least somewhat relieved to hear her, and not anyone else, calling out. He had a soft spot for both the young omegas. Plus, she seemed like a discreet enough person to have a total breakdown in front of.

“Clover? It’s Blake. Can I…come in?”

Maybe James just truly didn’t know. Maybe all his subterfuge had worked _too_ well. Such that the obvious signs–not just the bandanna, but the fishing for information, the suppressant, the delayed mating–seemed maybe not so obvious in hindsight. Maybe he should have been more honest. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to make it work at all.

Maybe he should go back, to explain.

Except that the thought of doing so made him sick with anxiety.

“…Clover, are you there?”

He sighed, shifting to the side so he could open the door. At least he wasn’t crying this time.

Clover reached up, unlocking the door and cracking it open. Above him, Blake peered through the small opening. She looked briefly confused before her eyes traveled down, to his position on the floor. He could only imagine how pathetic he looked. “Come on in,” he said.

She entered, shutting the door behind her, ears low. She locked the door again, then slid down until she was sitting where he’d just been, back to the door. Clover wasn’t proud that it made him feel safer.

“Did Qrow send you to talk to me,” he said, flat. He sounded off, even to himself.

She shook her head. “No, I…we saw you come up the stairs, and I just thought…you could use a friend.”

“Oh.”

Blake and Yang, in the study. He must have stomped past them, on his way up here. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there before she knocked. Everything kind of blurred together. His fingers twitched in his lap as he tried to still his shaking hands. Eventually, he settled for sitting on them.

Finally, Blake spoke.

“I…here’s the thing. Menagerie’s different from Atlas. It’s…alphas and betas and omegas are all equals, okay? Everybody knows that.”

Which…great, that made him feel smart. Blake continued.

“But…within that, there are still ways that you can be…manipulated. Instincts are instincts. And even without dynamics at play, people can…change.”

“How did you…” he started, turning to look at her. He trailed off as he noted the hardened look in her eyes.

What an absolute shame. Clover wanted to burn the world down.

“Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s…not a direct comparison,” Blake said. “He was cruel in other ways, to other people. I’ve never seen that from Ironwood. I’m sure he _thinks_ he’s doing the right thing. And maybe he’ll learn, eventually. But _you_ don’t have to be the one to teach him.”

Blake gripped his arm, deadly serious. “You don’t owe him _anything_.”

Clover’s mind swept through all of the reasons why that couldn’t be true. All his past resolve had crumbled away, such that he didn’t even _know_ what James wanted, anymore.

James was…Blake didn’t know James like he did. She didn’t know everything James had done for him. She hadn’t seen how sweet he could be, how funny, how caring and gentle. Of course, when he was in General mode that was one thing, but even during Clover’s captivity he’d been…maybe he hadn’t been so bad? They’d had some good times. There had to be a way to square that up. Maybe there was a future, with James, that he was throwing away. Maybe James _did_ love him, and that was why he’d taken such extreme measures, and anyway wasn’t _Clover_ the one who’d betrayed him by running away, by literally _pushing_ him away? It was Clover who had run _sacred_ , after James had…he had…

Those memories were harder to focus on.

Blake sat quietly, waiting.

It wasn’t right, that someone so young could cut him down so effectively.

He took a shuddering breath. “Do you think he’ll stop looking for me?”

“No.”

It was refreshingly blunt.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall. “What do you think I should do?”

“I…wish I knew.”

It wasn’t a fair question, and he felt bad for asking. It was just that he so desperately wanted someone to come along and explain everything in a way that actually made sense. He couldn’t make a plan until he knew what was on the table, and every twist that came along just blurred the image even more. They sat in silence, as Clover thought.

“There…is one other thing. It’s not really related.” Blake said, eventually. Clover opened his eyes. The hardened look in her eyes was gone, replaced by something softer. He raised his eyebrows, questioning.

“I…it’s not really my place to say. But Qrow, I do know. Not just from what Yang and Ruby have told me, but from what I’ve seen myself. He’s selfless. I’d call him…the embodiment of ‘care.’ And he really does care, about you. He’s just afraid of hurting you.”

Clover blinked, surprised. Was she…giving him dating advice?

He smiled, softly. He was still a little annoyed at Qrow, but he got what she was saying. “Good to know.”

Her ears lowered a little, in embarrassment. “I just know how it feels to be scared to trust someone, again. But I…I think it’s worth it.”

“Well,” Clover said, “If you ever want to talk to an adult who _isn’t_ your girlfriend’s uncle, I’m here. I can’t promise I’ll have the _best_ advice, but sometimes it’s nice just to have a neutral party to bounce ideas off of.”

Blake’s ears perked up and she smiled, shyly. “Thanks, Clover. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Clover’s earlier concern nagged at him until he said something. “You two are using protection, right? You know about all the options?”

Blake’s ears stood _straight up_. “Oh, I…we…I mean, we haven’t…” She was blushing furiously. “Um. Thanks, but. It’s still a bit soon. But thanks for…offering.”

He let out a breath, slightly relieved. “Sorry, just…had to ask. No pressure. That’s good, to wait. No need to rush anything.”

That was sweet, at least. And it gave him a bit of hope. Clover hadn’t really had the luxury of being so precious, when it came to choosing partners. Let the kids have some mystery, for once. And if that kept them out of a pregnancy scare, all the better.

“I think we’re gonna go train, with the others.” Blake said, coughing. It was clear who the ‘we’ was. “If you want to join, I think everyone would like that.”

Clover sighed. “Give me…fifteen minutes.”

Blake nodded, before discreetly slipping out the door. He sat in place after she left, mulling everything over.

It took him closer to an hour, but she didn’t seem to mind.

* * *

Training turned out to be exactly the balm that his shattered nerves needed. Kingfisher in his hand, calling out formations, his brain three steps ahead of his body, he _finally_ started to feel more like himself.

He wondered if he could take James in a fight.

James trained him, extensively, when he was coming up. He’d always wiped the floor with Clover, back then. The alpha was bigger and stronger, and he had more years of experience. But these days he was up in his office most of the time, directing everyone else. It was _Clover_ who was out in the field every day. His style had evolved. And Clover still remembered how James liked to fight.

Clover could deflect his long-range attacks, but James would keep him on the defense indefinitely. Close-in, James could pack a wallop if he landed a hit, but Clover was no slouch there, either. Hell, half his _style_ was bringing his opponent in close enough so he could deck them. Of course, James had a lot of stamina. He wondered how much that had degraded, if at all, over the years.

The mid-range was where it got interesting. James was absolutely _useless_ if he couldn’t either grab you or line up a good shot, and while he was _fast_ at finding one, Clover was _faster_. People never expected that from him, given his height and his build. He bet he could dance circles around the alpha. His biggest weakness would be in dealing enough damage to James, solo. A lot of his skill–and frankly, a lot of the fun of working in teams–was in setting his opponents up to take a hit from someone _else._

Case in point.

“Oscar, _now!”_

The young boy moved in just as he _finally_ got Nora grappled, delivering a series of swift blows before she kicked him off.

“Point!” Jaune called, monitoring their auras from the sidelines. “Nora, you’re out.”

“Awww, I was _just about_ to blast you!” she moaned, pouting.

Clover knew. He _was_ a bit rusty, but this was helping immensely. “Next time, take the opportunity when you have it,” he said, releasing her. “There are no second chances in the field.”

He turned to Oscar, who was lending a hand to a winded Ren. There was a flash of _guilt_ in the omega’s face, quickly smoothed over. Huh…that couldn’t be good. He’d have to look into that, later. In the meantime, “Oscar, that was very good! You’ve improved quite a bit since the last time I saw you.”

Oscar rubbed the back of his head, sheepish. “Ozpin’s been helping me, now that he’s back.”

Clover blinked. So _that_ was a thing. He had… _thoughts_ about this reincarnated wizard occupying the body of this good-hearted child. It was too big of an expectation for someone so young. If someone had told him at fifteen that he could save the entire world and all he had to do was give up his bodily autonomy…well. And Oscar hadn’t even been _asked_. He’d never understood James’s determination to reawaken the man. Good riddance, Clover had thought. The boy hadn’t even presented, yet. Let him have his own life.

Oscar’s face lit up. “And now I can do magic! Want to see?”

Clover frowned. “Maybe later. Let’s stay focused, ok?”

“Yeah,” Yang called, limbering up. She entered the open area that they’d cleared of patio furniture, so they could spar. It was no practice room at Atlas, but it was doing the job. At least the edges of the yard had tall hedges, to keep out prying eyes. “It’s time for _us_ to take a crack at him.”

With a shake of her fists, she cocked her weapon. Blake came up beside her, Gambol Shroud at the ready, and gave him a little smile. “What do you say?” Yang challenged. “Ready to get serious?”

This was either the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him or it was some kind of extended shovel talk, but _gods_ , did he want to fight them.

He turned to the rest of the group, grinning as he took his stance, cocky. “All right, kids. Watch and learn.”

From the sidelines, Ruby was _screaming_ , clinging to Penny in excitement. “KICK HIS ASS, YANG!”

Penny was just as enthusiastic. “GOOOO, CLOVER! SHOW THEM WHAT ATLAS CAN DO!”

Clover waited for Blake and Yang to make the first move. They exchanged a look.

“What are you kids yelling about, out here?”

All three of them broke their fighting stances to glare at Qrow.

“Nothing to worry about. Unless you want to join.”

“Yeah, Uncle Qrow, unless you’re too _scared_ to fight us.”

“Let’s make it interesting,” Clover countered. Qrow’s eyes snapped to him, equal parts concerned and confused. Clover jerked his head. “You and me against all _four_ of them.”

Ruby went absolutely _insane_. Weiss was more restrained. “But…that’ll be…he’s just…oh, _fine.”_

They moved into the ring, taking their stances. Clover grinned, triumphant.

Qrow was giving him that hopeless desire look, again. “You gonna get your weapon, or what?” Clover asked, winking.

Qrow _ran_ into the house. Minutes later he emerged, Harbinger in hand. He looked Clover up and down, taking in his form. There was something like an apology in his eyes.

“Don’t get cocky, Lucky Charm,” he cautioned. “I need you at the top of your game.” He turned to his nieces. “You kids don’t know what you just signed up for.”

A little shiver of excitement ran down his spine. He felt _alive._ “What do you say, Qrow? Should we take it easy on them?”

“Hmph.” Qrow smirked. He dropped into a loose stance. “Absolutely not.”

Team RWBY faced off against them. Penny, Oscar and Team JNR watched from the sidelines.

He and Qrow shared a glance.

As one, they moved.

* * *

In the end, it was a close fight.

Team RWBY had gotten _good_ –they knew each other’s styles, and they had a clear divide and conquer strategy that would have worked perfectly if he and Qrow hadn’t been so _aware_ of each other the whole fight. Qrow was…he was really the best Hunstman Clover had ever had the pleasure of fighting alongside. Even out of practice, the connection they had in combat was deliciously _intense._ He somehow always knew exactly where Qrow would be, what to do next to set him up to deal damage. The feeling seemed to be mutual, Qrow trusting him to slide into place when and where he needed to.

Clover was _exhausted_ , by the time Ruby finally tapped out. They probably could have ended the whole thing much sooner and more decisively, but the whole point of sparring was to learn. Besides, drawing it out was too much fun.

He rolled his shoulders, stretching. Yang had landed a _brutal_ kick to his back that would be occupying his aura for a few hours, at least. Qrow was still taunting his nieces. It sounded like that might take a while, too.

“Come _on_ , Uncle Qrow, let me _up!”_

Qrow was sitting on Ruby, threatening to tickle her. Clover probably shouldn’t have found that so endearing. “You asked for this, kiddo. Now, say it.”

Ruby sighed. “Uncle Qrow, you are the coolest, strongest, and most awesome Huntsman in all of Remnant. Now will you _let me up!_ ”

That was cute. They said something different, when he sparred with his cousins. Something less polite. “You forgot most handsome,” Clover said, sauntering over with a grin. He offered Qrow an arm, pulling him up and setting Ruby free. Yang made a vomiting noise, from the sidelines.

“I don’t know about that,” Qrow said, eyeing him. “You’re not so bad, yourself.”

He felt like he was on fire. Now that he had Qrow in front of him, hands and eyes locked, all of the focus of the match was directed solely on the alpha. It was almost like…

Was…that it? Clover had never fought without being on suppressants before. That hyper focus, during his heat, casting his hook around James’s pistol. That wasn’t just luck. It wasn’t a trick of his mind in a moment of panic. It was _him._

It was like seeing in color for the first time. Why hadn’t anyone ever _told_ him?

He tugged Qrow a little closer, until he could _feel_ the heat of him against his body. Qrow searched his face. He looked like a man dying of thirst.

A series of catcalls broke them out of their stupor. Yang and Nora were whooping and making kissy faces. Ruby and Jaune were biting their nails in romantic anticipation. Weiss, Ren and Oscar were all attempting to avert their eyes in one way or another. And Penny looked _extremely_ interested in the whole thing.

Clover coughed, stepping back. He let go of Qrow, with some reluctance.

Qrow scratched the back of his head, giving him an apologetic smile. “All right, you kids settle down. That’s probably enough training for the day, I think.”

The world caught up with him, as the kids filed back into the house to wash up. Soon he and Qrow were alone in the yard. “They’re _really_ good,” Clover said, sitting on the back steps. Qrow joined him, bumping their knees together. “And they just keep getting better. You should be proud.”

He was half expecting Qrow to say something self-deprecating at that, but he just sighed, in wonder. “I…am.”

Clover smiled, brilliantly. Qrow coughed, ducking his head.

“Anyway, thanks,” Clover said. “I needed that.”

His head felt clearer, now that he’d moved around. He scooted closer, so he could lean against Qrow as they watched the sun dip below the horizon. Finally feeling capable of addressing his thoughts, he let them come forward, examining each in turn.

He could stay, for a few weeks or for forever, trying to fix Atlas from the inside. But unlike Winter, or Robyn, or even Cedar, the extent of what he could do from here was extremely limited. He couldn’t work with the Ace Ops. He could maybe join Marrow and Robyn’s Huntresses, if she’d have him. But James was looking for him. He could fill in the gaps in Mantle’s defense, taking out stray Grimm every night in a kind of dull, secretive monotony, but he’d never be up there with the big boys. James was right, about one thing. He couldn’t go back to his old life.

He could go with Qrow and the kids, when they left. Hunker down in excruciating isolation, at least with company this time, until they could make a daring escape, then flee for friendlier shores. Maybe Faye could help them, either to get to Vacuo or once they arrived. He could help take down Salem, whatever that entailed. _There,_ he could make a difference. But if he didn’t leave now he might never see Cedar again, or Val or Bianca or Rafe, or meet his new niece. Was it selfish, to want to see his family before going to war? To want to feel the sun on his face, and to walk the crowded streets freely? Was it cowardly?

And then, James. Clover desperately wanted to prove, to himself and everyone else, that he wasn’t affected by the last month’s events. He didn’t understand why, once he finally stepped outside of that apartment, he couldn’t just leave all the feelings and fears of that place inside, scattered on the floor like refuse. If he couldn’t get back to his old _life_ , could he also not get back to his old _self?_ Had James changed him so irrevocably? It seemed the biggest hurt, beyond anything James had or could do to him physically, was the mark that he’d left on Clover’s heart.

This place, this _city_ , kept him going round and round in circles. James. Winter. Team RWBY. Salem. Cedar. The Ace Ops. Robyn. Qrow.

“I can hear you thinking, again.”

Of _course_ , there was Qrow.

All his life he felt like he’d been punch-drunk, pining hopelessly for whoever was least likely to show him affection. But Qrow gave as good as he got, and then ten times over.

It was…nice.

But the truth was he’d already decided, as soon as he’d heard James’s voice.

“I…” Clover paused. “I think I’ll go, tomorrow. To Argus.”

Qrow stiffened. Clover pulled back so Qrow could look him in the eye. He smiled, sadly. “I can’t stay here, any more. I’m not strong enough, I’m sorry.”

The other man looked…was hurt the right word for it? Disappointed? His crimson eyes softened. “Cloves, you…you _are_ strong, you know that, right?”

Clover’s eyes stung. “Then why am I so afraid?”

Qrow turned toward him, wrapping him in his arms. “Hey, it’s okay…you need to do what you need to do, okay? It’s okay to be scared.”

He cried, softly, into Qrow’s shoulder. It wasn’t the dramatic, sobbing affair of the last few times. More slow, resigned. It hurt, to give this up. It hurt so much more than the last time, pushing Qrow away on the transport. To know that the person he wanted would be forever in the orbit of the person he feared. Both at the same time or neither at all.

* * *

Clover could have sat there all night, but they were interrupted–of all things–by the sound of his stomach rumbling. Belatedly, he realized he’d skipped lunch. And he’d really mostly eaten sweets for breakfast. Gods, he couldn’t believe he’d fought Team RWBY on carbs alone.

He straightened, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt as he chuckled. “All right, don’t say it. I’ll go eat something.”

Qrow rolled his eyes, standing and offering Clover an arm. “You’re terrible, you know that? I’m gonna start carrying granola bars in my pocket. How’d you get those muscles skipping meals all the time, anyway?”

“Oh, I only do that when I’m…”

He was going to say ‘… _when I’m upset,_ ’ but. Well. He supposed it was obvious. He took Qrow’s hand, standing. He was probably a bit of a mess, but that wasn’t exactly unusual these days. “How do I look?” he asked.

Qrow wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “You look amazing.”

Clover blushed. “I mean, can you tell that I’ve been, y’know…”

Qrow made a so-so gesture with his head. “Probably, yeah. But I don’t think anyone will mind. And they definitely won’t say anything. Come on, let’s go see what the kids rustled up for dinner.”

Qrow squeezed his hand, then led Clover back into the house.

There were amazing smells coming out of the kitchen, but no one was in there except…an older woman, with pale hair and delicate features. Clover’s breath caught.

“Ms. Schnee, I presume. It’s an honor.”

She looked up from her chopping, which she was executing with precise ease. Next to the cutting board was a mug of tea. Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry…I didn’t notice you come in.”

She set her knife down and came to him. There was an eerie grace about her, as she moved. She held her hands out, smiling warmly. “You must be Clover. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Clover had to drop Qrow’s hand to take hers, and she cast a disdainful look at the alpha. Like mother like daughter, he supposed. “And you must be Qrow. I’ve heard about you, too. Why don’t you go see what your nieces are up to? I’d like a word alone, with Clover.”

Qrow gave him a questioning look, which he answered with a nod. He gave Clover’s shoulder a squeeze as he exited. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Willow led him over to the counter. “Sit, please. I hope you don’t mind if I cook, while we talk?”

Clover obliged, siting at one of the stools. “I have to say, this is quite the kitchen. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Willow smiled, distantly, as she resumed her chopping. “That would be nice, yes. But first I wanted to ask you. You will leave Atlas, won’t you? Tomorrow?”

If he hadn’t already made up his mind, the sheer urgency of her concern would have pushed him over the edge. How could he say no to a request like that? “I…yes. I will. And…thank you, by the way, for everything you’ve done to facilitate that.”

Willow paused, sighing, relieved. She set down her knife, and took a sip of her tea, closing her eyes. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.” She picked up the knife again. “I know it must be hard to leave, but I thought tonight could be a special dinner, to see you off. Winter will be here. And she invited your…” she paused. “Faunus friend.”

Even amongst omegas, he supposed Atlas was Atlas. Different generations had different views.

“That sounds lovely,” he said, smiling. “Did you come to this house, often? It seems quite special.”

Willow continued her chopping. “Yes, it’s mine. It’s the only thing that stayed mine, after the marriage. I…used to bring Winter here, quite a bit, when she was young. She would sit right where you are, and watch me cook.”

The image that conjured was just adorable. He could hardly imagine little Winter, snacking on pieces of carrot as her mother chopped. “I have to say, Winter and Weiss are two of the strongest women I know. You should be very proud of both of them.”

Willow paused. “I’m afraid I didn’t have much to do with that.”

Clover immediately regretted his words, feeling he’d overstepped. As he opened his mouth to apologize, Willow looked up.

“I think you should be careful around that alpha,” she said. The tone was all wrong, but the bluntness was pure Winter.

Clover blinked. “Qrow? I…with all due respect, ma’am, you don’t have to worry about Qrow.”

Willow sighed. She set her knife down again, going for her tea. When she saw it was empty, she walked over to a low corner cabinet. She bent, opening the cabinet and retrieving a bottle of amber liquor, which she poured into her cup. She replaced the bottle, refilled the hot water with the kettle at the stove, and came back over.

Clover stared, shocked. She caught his expression, before he could school it into something neutral. She watched him for a moment, then walked around the counter.

She cupped his cheek. This close, he could smell the burn of alcohol, mixed with peppermint tea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed before.

“How old are you?” she asked.

Clover frowned, confused. “Thirty-four.”

Willow closed her eyes, thinking. “By the time I was your age, I was pregnant with my third child.”

Clover’s mouth dried up. Willow opened her eyes, continuing. “They weren’t close together. He wasn’t passionate, outside of my heats. And I didn’t always conceive, every time. Maybe if I did, it would have been over sooner. After Weiss, I thought he would be done. He had two, and Weiss showed early signs of being an alpha. But Winter was already defying him, and so we had Whitley.”

She cast her eyes down, ashamed. “I…spent less time, with him and Weiss. They cowed to him, more. And he left me alone, once he had what he wanted. I abandoned my children just to get away from him. That was…fifteen years ago.”

He tried to think of something to say. There was nothing. He was horrified.

Willow gave his cheek one last pat, then pulled away. “Why don’t you help me with the dessert? I hear you like to cook as well.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he said, “I…do.”

Willow took a sip of her drink, giving him a small smile.

* * *

The dinner was nice, it was fine, but almost as soon as it started, Clover was itching to leave.

They had it in the kitchen, where everything was less formal, thank the gods. When Qrow walked in with the kids he’d taken one look at Clover, shell-shocked and subdued, and raised his eyebrows. Clover shook his head imperceptibly, mouthing ‘ _later.’_ He owed everyone a good performance, even if he couldn’t hide it from Qrow.

The kids were the kids, talkative and lively. First, he found out what was up with Ren, and gave him a little pep talk. Not unlike something he used to do for Marrow. Marrow himself, Clover needed to say a proper goodbye to. While the faunus looked distinctly uncomfortable around Willow, he was happy to see Clover. He promised to pass on Clover’s thanks to May, and to continue to do all he could for Mantle in Clover’s absence.

Winter gave her mother a polite kiss on the cheek when she arrived. Clover held his breath, wondering if she knew. He noticed Weiss keeping her distance, even as she watched her mother with a concerned eye. Winter seemed to think she was doing better, but was this…better? Or maybe she _didn’t_ know. He wondered if he should tell her. He wondered if he should warn _Qrow,_ to stay away from Willow, and that there was alcohol in the house. Or maybe someone else…Ruby? Yang?

And then, because everyone had to get their little digs in him today, _Ozpin_ wanted to talk to him. He haltingly accepted a scroll, courtesy of Dr. Polendina, containing their tentative plans for Vacuo. It had everything he would need to find them, when the time came. And then the man occupying Oscar’s body gave him access to an account with several thousand lien in it. It was…practical, he supposed. All his assets currently belonged to James. But it felt like blood money.

Qrow bumped his shoulder, about halfway through the dinner. He glanced down at Clover’s mostly full plate, then back up. Clover looked at him, desperate. It was too much, and there were too many people, and the day had been so long, and he just wanted to be with Qrow.

“If I eat half of this, can we please just go upstairs?” Clover asked, voice pitched low.

Qrow studied him, a moment. Gods knew what he saw. “Deal.”

Clover ate as fast as his stomach would allow, grimacing his way through what was probably a gourmet meal. Qrow finally took pity on him and placed his hand over Clover’s, stilling his fork. Clover sent him a look of pure gratitude.

Qrow cleared his throat. “All right, our guest of honor has had a pretty long day, so I think we’re gonna cut out early. Sorry, kids, say goodnight.”

The only people he wouldn’t see tomorrow were Willow and Marrow, but of course then _everyone_ wanted a personal goodbye, and so he ended up hugging every single person in the room. It only added a layer of sentimentality to his harried nausea, such that by the time Qrow finally got him up the stairs he announced he was taking a shower, just so he could have a quiet place to think.

The hot water pounding on his back did help, a bit. All the conversations of the day had started to blur together in an amorphous cloud.

It occurred to Clover that he’d been horribly sheltered, growing up. Not in the same way Winter and Weiss had been sheltered, by wealth and status, but sheltered nonetheless. From _thinking._ The school year was about working hard to impress his father. Summers in Argus, baby of the family, about blowing off as much steam as possible before getting back to the grind. Rinse, repeat. The tragedies–his mother’s death, presenting–were clearly meant to be swept under the rug in service to this noble goal. Even when his father died, there was James, at the fucking funeral, telling Clover what to do next. Clover was very good at working within restrictions, at finding creative ways of solving other people’s problems. Deciding what _he_ wanted his life to look like was completely foreign.

And he couldn’t decide what to do about Qrow. The younger generation all thought he hung the moon. The older ones thought he would consume Clover whole. He’d been so firmly in the camp of the former until the fears of the latter started worming their way into his skull. Now his memories of Qrow were mixing with his memories of James, and all the good and bad memories were huddling together in one big mass, waiting for him to come take a crack at it.

What was the middle ground, here? Blake and Yang, Ren and Nora, they were innocent and young and hopeful and none of them seemed to care about alpha or beta or omega. Clover _wished_ it were that simple but he just…couldn’t. Not now. Not when he’d spent so much of his life thinking that his dynamic was something he had to _hide_.

And his conversation with Willow. That would…in all honesty, that would probably haunt him until the end of his days. But Qrow wasn’t anything _like_ Jacques Schnee. He couldn’t even say that _James_ was, much as he’d hurt Clover.

He breathed deeply. The water was starting to turn cool.

What would he have done, today, if no one had told him what to do?

He wound back the clock, in his mind, until he was sitting at the kitchen counter, Qrow’s wrist caught in his hand, a lingering taste of sweetness in his mouth, gazing into crimson eyes.

Okay, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Willow Schnee: means well, accidentally traumatizing.


	12. Stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover gets what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of the road, y'all. Two chapters in one night, friends. If you did not see that I extended this big boy by another chapter, check out ch. 11 first! It's a double feature! And...there is smut in this one! Kinda!

“You all right, Lucky Charm? You were drifting off, down there.”

Clover blinked, coming back to himself. He was standing in the door to the bathroom, towel wrapped around his neck, in a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Qrow was studying him, concerned, from where he sat propped against the headboard.

“Sorry. I just…it was starting to feel a bit like a funeral in there, and I…” Clover trailed off. “I was hoping not to think about it, actually. Or anything else.”

He hadn’t meant, at dinner, that they could ‘go upstairs’ the same way he’d asked Qrow to do so earlier, but now that they were here that was the only thing he could think of that he actually knew he wanted. This attraction, lingering in the background since he’d first laid eyes on Qrow, was the one consistent aspect of this whole endeavor.

Qrow frowned. “Clover…”

“I know,” Clover said, turning to face Qrow. “And I will. Tomorrow. But this might be my last night with you for a very long time and I was…I was hoping, I guess, that we could…I mean, now that I’m not in heat, that is…”

Qrow was staring at him like he was a crazy person. Clover huffed, frustrated. He pulled the towel from his shoulders and yanked down the collar of his shirt, exposing his neck. It was clear, unmarred, James’s marks having finally faded during his heat. Qrow’s mouth dropped open.

“Not a bond mark or anything, obviously,” he said, head slightly tilted, gaze cast sidelong to meet Qrow’s eyes. “Just something that’ll…show. That I can see. To remember you by. To…ground me, for a while, when I don’t have you around.”

Clover was blushing furiously at this point, but he stood his ground. _This_ was what he wanted. He needed to scrub the bad memories from his mind, to chase them off with good ones.

Qrow swallowed. Clover watched the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Lucky Charm,” he said. It didn’t sound like his throat was any less dry than before. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yeah, I…” Clover trailed off. He crawled onto the bed, until he was kneeling next to Qrow, and sat back on his heels. “I want you to. If you want to.”

“Are we…relaxing _just_ this rule or…”

“Both,” Clover said. “But I was thinking maybe start with the one and work our way to the other? We still can’t…I mean, unless you have…I’m not on birth control, or anything. So if you were expecting–”

“That’s fine!” Qrow’s eyes were wide. “I wasn’t. I’m not. I respect that.”

Clover tilted his head slightly, waiting. He breathed deeply. “Can you just…start slow? I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”

“Okay,” Qrow repeated. He reached out, hesitantly, fingertips hovering over Clover’s pulse point. “Like this?”

Clover nodded, swallowing. He closed his eyes as he felt the soft pad of Qrow’s fingers on his neck. Qrow caressed the spot with his fingertips, then curled his hand and lightly drew the back of his nails over his skin. Clover let out a shuddering breath as Qrow touched him, tilting his head to the side even further. Qrow’s fingers dipped below his shirt collar.

“Good?” Qrow murmured.

“Mmm,” he hummed, in assent. Gods, it _was._ “Yes. More.”

The shirt was in the way. He opened his eyes, peeling it off. Qrow inhaled, sharply. Clover moved onto his lap, straddling the alpha’s hips. He wrapped his arms around Qrow, carding his fingers through the hair at the base of the alpha’s neck. Qrow made a little hum of pleasure, his fingertips ghosting over Clover’s sides.

Clover tilted his head, again, and Qrow leaned in, inhaling deeply. Clover felt the brush of stubble against his neck, sending shivers down his spine. “ _Gods_ , Cloves, you’re so…” Qrow murmured, voice low. “You smell so _good.”_

Clover’s hands skittered in Qrow’s hair. Qrow froze. He pulled back. “Stop?”

Clover bit his lip, indecisive. Gods, why couldn’t he just be normal?

“Just…pause, okay?” Clover sat back on his heels, so there was a bit more space between their bodies. He groaned, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration. “Sorry, it’s not you. It’s…you didn’t do anything bad. Just a bad memory. Gods, I’m so fucked up, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, take it easy,” Qrow said, taking his hand. He rubbed his thumb in little circles, comforting. “If I’m not allowed to talk about myself like that, then you’re not either, all right? Deal?”

Clover sighed. He supposed it was only fair. “Deal.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Clover hesitated. He’d never told _anyone_. He didn’t even like to talk to his _cousins_ about this, and they’d been _there._ And this definitely didn’t fall into the category of ‘not thinking about anything.’

“You don’t have to,” Qrow said, squeezing his hand. “But you can. I know some things are…hard to talk about.”

There was so much unsaid in that statement. Qrow had told him a bit, back before all this craziness. About his semblance. About growing up in a tribe of bandits. About how he’d quit drinking. And just the tiniest hints of what had happened with his team. But Clover suspected the darkest details were still locked away, not out of shame for Clover learning them but so Qrow wouldn’t have to face them himself. Yeah, he knew that feeling. 

Scrub the bad memories from his mind. Couldn’t do that without looking at them. 

“I…it was a long time ago,” Clover said, taking a deep breath. It was easier to look down while he talked, at his hand entwined in Qrow’s. “When I presented. There was this guy, this alpha…I don’t even know, he must have been one of Cedar’s friends. I kind of got separated from everyone; I didn’t realize what was happening. But he was there and he…”

Clover paused, remembering. Qrow squeezed his hand, again.

“It’s not as bad as…he didn’t get as far as he wanted. My cousins found us and they stopped him, it was really lucky. But, uh, that was the last thing he said to me before he…tried. Actually, his exact words were ‘Gods, you smell amazing.’”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t always set me off, and that’s not even what you _said_ , that’s what’s so fucked–”

Wait. No talking like that. He took a breath.

“I mean, I can’t really predict it. Just…sometimes it’s there.”

Clover finally dared to look up. Qrow was…he looked shocked. He must have been expecting Clover to say something about James, and not some totally random encounter that happened nearly twenty years ago. “I’m so sorry, Clover, that’s…that must have been terrifying.”

Clover shrugged, again. “At the time, yeah. It was…”

The confusion. The loss of control. The _speed_ at which it all spiraled away from him. Clover shivered, looking away.

When he started at the Academy, he was sure everyone could tell what had happened. He was so paranoid someone would expose him, he barely talked to anyone that first year except his cousins. About a month after the semester started, _Elm_ had asked him out. She’d always been confident, it was part of what he liked about her, but she had a big heart, too. She’d been sweet about it–just _asking_ , not even trying to _do_ anything–but still much too forward for his shattered nerves. He was sure he’d been made. Clover had been so taken aback that he’d _shoved_ her away, snapping at her not to touch him.

The look of _hurt_ on her face still haunted him. For the rest of the year she bullied him relentlessly, telling everyone he was stuck up and coasting on his family and his semblance. It took _years_ for them to finally see eye to eye.

He didn’t blame her, now. They were just kids, and she hadn’t known. She wouldn’t even have suspected. By the time they became Ace Ops they were thick as thieves; they’d had to be or they never would have survived in the field. He thought she might regret her actions, too. But they’d never talked about it, and he’d never told her why he reacted the way he did. If Elm ever noticed that he never dated _anyone_ , she never said anything.

“I’m sorry for reminding you,” Qrow said.

“You couldn’t have known,” Clover assured him, echoing what he should have told Elm years ago. He exhaled, sharply, through his nose, ready to change the topic. He looked back at Qrow, giving him a bittersweet smile. “You know, people always say that, that I smell good. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”

In practice, it usually meant _‘I am about to ravage you and take all that I can.’_

“You…know about omega scents, right?” Qrow asked, blessedly playing along.

“Academically, sure. But it’s not like…are you literally smelling something? Or is it more…” he waved his hand, vaguely.

Qrow pondered this for a moment. “It’s different for everyone. It’s not literal, I don’t think. More like…it reminds you of something, I guess?”

“Like a scent memory? And it makes alphas, like…go crazy?”

“Sort of, but not one that you actually experienced, more like…” Qrow frowned. “Wait, what? No. Cloves, it’s…it’s _nice_ , but it’s not… _uncontrollable_.”

Clover considered this. Qrow _had_ stopped right away. Before Clover had even asked him to, in fact. But Qrow wasn’t like most alphas. It wasn’t an unreasonable thought to extend Qrow’s impeccable control on the battlefield to the bedroom. “But you said everyone was different,” he countered.

“ _Clover,_ gods, that’s not what I meant. I…I was just talking about…” Qrow huffed, shaking his head. He was getting kind of worked up. “I’m shit at explaining this, Lucky Charm. You’re asking the wrong guy.”

Maybe…not. Maybe Qrow was exactly the _right_ guy. Blake’s words echoed in his ears. Clover scooted forward again, playful. “So, what do I smell like?”

Qrow’s eyes widened. Gods, he was cute when he was flustered. “What do you…you want me to describe it?”

“Yeah,” Clover said. “What, is it some kind of secret? It’s my smell, I think I should know.”

“I mean, it’s…it _is_ kind of personal,” Qrow said, flushed. “Every alpha would have their own interpretation.”

“Even better,” Clover said, smirking. “What do I smell like _to you?_ ” He canted his head, exposing his neck again. “Do you need to take another whiff?”

Qrow studied him, cautiously. “Are you sure?”

“Unpause,” he said, nodding. “I’m ready now. Get in here.”

Qrow snorted, rolling his eyes. “You sound like you’re on a mission.”

Clover supposed he was.

He untangled his hand from Qrow’s, gently cupping the back of the alpha’s head. He leaned forward, shifting his hips and getting his feet under him so he was more…hovering over Qrow, able to pull back easily if he needed to. Slowly, he guided Qrow forward, until his face was positioned over Clover’s scent gland, close but not touching. He felt Qrow breathe deeply, contemplative. When he pulled back, Qrow had his eyes closed.

“It’s like…a meadow. Early morning. The sun’s just coming up, drying the dew from the flowers. Maybe up in the mountains. It smells really clean. Fresh. Kind of grassy. It’s peaceful.”

Qrow opened his eyes. Clover gazed into those crimson orbs, entranced. The color reminded him of something, he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Qrow glanced down, embarrassed. “I told you I was bad at poetry.”

“No, I…” Clover trailed off, his throat dry. He swallowed, then tried again. “That’s beautiful.”

Qrow gave him a little smile. “That’s you.”

Clover couldn’t wait any longer. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Qrow’s lips. It was slow, gentle, building continuously from the softest brush until Clover finally gasped, breaking away. He fumbled at the buttons on Qrow’s shirt, needing to feel the alpha’s skin against his.

It took _forever_ , even with both of them working at it. “Why do you wear so many fucking layers,” he muttered.

“Some of us _like_ sleeves, thanks.” Qrow shot back, just straight _tossing_ his cape onto the floor.

When they’d finally accomplished the task, Clover ran his hands down the alpha’s lean chest, fingers brushing through the scattered hair. Qrow groaned and pulled him down into another kiss, more passionate this time.

Clover tilted his head as they separated, offering. “Could you..?”

He watched as Qrow leaned in, excruciatingly slow, giving Clover time to stop him if he wanted. At first, Qrow just…breathed, inhaling deeply, letting Clover get used to the warm rush of his breath. After an eternity, he dipped lower, pressing the softest kiss to Clover’s collarbone. From there he worked his way in, planting kisses closer and closer to Clover’s scent gland. Clover could feel the tension building. When Qrow finally touched the most sensitive spot, he cried out, his fingers curling against Qrow’s back.

“You doing okay, Lucky Charm?” Qrow asked, his voice rough. Clover shuddered at the feel of the alpha’s breath against his neck, of the whiskers tickling his skin.

“It’s good,” Clover said, needy. “Keep going.”

Qrow kissed him again, and then _licked_. Clover moaned, as his body responded. Gods, he was already so fucking hard and _wet._ He bucked his hips into Qrow’s, trying to get some friction.

Qrow pulled back, the bastard. He put his hands on Clover’s hips, holding him steady so he couldn’t just _rut_ against the alpha. “Not so fast, lover boy. You wanted to go slow, right?”

Clover was an absolute _idiot._ “You’re an asshole, touch me,” he panted. He snaked his hands between them, trying to find the clasp of Qrow’s belt. Qrow tutted, catching his wrists and bringing his arms up, around Qrow’s shoulders.

“You had a very specific order you wanted to do this in,” Qrow murmured, teasing, dipping his head back down. Clover bit back a moan as Qrow pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his neck, then tickled the spot with his breath. “I wanna see if I can make you come, just from this.”

That was just…Clover really _was_ lining up a witty response to that, he could swear it, but then Qrow licked him _again_. He shuddered, breath coming in ragged gasps, as he let out a whimper. It occurred to him that he wasn’t being particularly _quiet_ , but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“ _Qrow_ …”

“Too much?”

Clover shook his head. “If you stop I will murder you–ahhh!”

Qrow had nipped him, that time. “Wanna bet on it?” he said.

“What?” Clover gasped, distracted. He tried to squirm closer. Qrow had a vice-grip on his hips, keeping him in place. That…might actually leave bruises, which his aura could heal quickly. But maybe he’d leave them for a while. Clover was a sentimental guy.

Qrow sucked lightly at his skin, pulling off with a wet smack. _That_ would leave a mark for much longer. Clover moaned, again. _Definitely_ not quietly. “A bet. I’m feeling pretty good about this one.”

“You really think that highly of yourse– _fuck_ , yes!”

It wasn’t really fair, that Qrow could be so witty at a time like this.

“Oh, good, so you’ll take it,” Qrow murmured, casual. Clover would take just about _anything_ , at this point. He was also about to _ruin_ one of his few remaining articles of clothing. Qrow continued. “And if I win, you have to tell me _exactly_ what you want me to do next. In detail.”

“Is that a…” Clover briefly lost the thread, his toes curling at the feel of Qrow’s _teeth_ scraping against his pulse point. He took a gasping breath. “…a punishment?”

Qrow pulled back just enough to look Clover in the eye. “Let’s find out,” he said. He gave Clover a devilish wink, then lowered his head and _bit._

Clover lost the bet.

He didn’t feel too bad about it.

* * *

Later, in the darkness of night, Clover crawled out of bed. Qrow was sleeping the peaceful sleep of the smug, snoring softly. Clover admired the view for a while before pulling on a fresh pair of sweatpants and wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.

He padded downstairs in bare feet. The house was still and calm. There was barely enough scattered moonlight to guide the way, but he’d always been good at seeing in the darkness. He made his way into the back garden, hand sliding along the walls for guidance.

There was a distinct chill outside, and he gathered his aura and the blanket around his body to protect himself. This close to the wall, the stars were easier to spot, unlike in the bright city center. He sat on the back steps, gazing out at the tangled vines and overgrown roses and the mess of scuffs they’d left with their sparring.

He kept thinking about Willow Schnee, trapped in her loveless marriage. Chained for decades to a man that she hated, and who hated her. Had she always known it would go so poorly? Or was there a time when she was hopeful, ready to give everything to her alpha?

How were you supposed to know if you were really in love? If someone really loved you?

Clover wasn’t sure how long he sat there, before he felt a presence at his back.

“Hey there, Lucky Charm.”

The man really had the most impeccable timing.

Clover glanced over his shoulder. Qrow was leaning in the doorway, shivering slightly in the night air, clad only in a pair of boxers. He must have rushed down, as soon as he realized Clover was gone. Clover moved over, making room for him on the step and opening the blanket as an invitation. Qrow accepted, tucking the thick fabric around himself. Their bare shoulders pressed together as they leaned against each other for warmth. Qrow sighed, resting his head against Clover’s shoulder. Clover rested his head against Qrow’s.

They fit perfectly together.

“I wish I could come with you,” Clover murmured.

Under the blanket, Qrow grasped his hand. “It’s okay. I understand. And I…I’ll feel better, knowing you’re safe.”

Clover closed his eyes, debating whether he should say what he was thinking. Qrow made a sleepy hum as he nestled closer, rubbing the back of Clover’s hand with his thumb. _Gods,_ he was just…he was so…

Fortune favored the bold.

“I wish you could come with me, too,” he sighed, barely above a whisper.

Qrow’s hand stilled. He couldn’t bear to look at Qrow’s face as the alpha spoke, his voice conflicted. “…Oh. I…Cloves, I wish I…it’s just…”

“Ruby. And Yang,” Clover finished. “I know. It’s okay.”

Bianca. And Rafe. And this new life that he loved already.

It was the same thing, with them. It wasn’t a matter of who, between him and Qrow, was willing to give up more to be with the other. It was merely that some parts of Qrow’s heart weren’t his to give.

He took a deep breath, lifting his head so he could look at Qrow. “It’s not forever, okay? I can meet you all in Vacuo, once I get my head back. I still want to fight.”

Qrow’s face had shuttered a bit, like he was already letting him go. “Yeah, of course.”

That wouldn’t do. Clover lifted his hand, bringing it to the marks on his neck. He shivered, though it was plenty warm under the blanket. Qrow’s eyes sharpened, coming back. Clover gave him a wry look. “And I’m sorry I’ll have to take a raincheck on having you…what did I say? ‘Completely destroy me, sexually?’”

“I think that was it, yeah,” Qrow said, that little half-smile tugging at his mouth. He looked down, then back up, assessing Clover with a heated gaze. “I think I managed to do a decent amount of damage, though.”

Gods, if that wasn’t the understatement of the year. Clover’s heart clenched.

If he had to leave, he’d rather go out on a high note.

“I that so?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, we’ve still got a couple hours left, you know. I don’t see why you can’t take another swing at it.”

Clover stood, letting the blanket fall from his shoulders. He paused in the doorway, indicating with his head in a way that only showed off the marks more. As he glided through the house, he could hear Qrow cursing and banging into furniture as he followed.

* * *

Clover woke early, out of habit.

He moved through the room whisper-quiet as he got out of bed, not wanting to wake Qrow. They’d barely slept; the alpha needed the rest. Besides, there was little point in drawing out their goodbyes. They’d already said everything that needed to be said.

He wiped the steam from the mirror as he stepped out of the shower, examining his reflection. There was a little constellation of bruises running up the right side of his neck. He touched each one, assigning each to a memory of Qrow. Swinging his horseshoe as he stood over the man he’d just arrested. Winking as he told Qrow about his semblance. Playing cards late at night in the mess hall. Fighting back to back against a horde of Grimm. Kissing on the transport. Qrow perched on his shoulder, grooming his hair with his beak. The way he ruffled his feathers. The way he blushed and looked away from compliments. The way Clover could just come apart in his hands.

There were more memories than there were marks on his skin. In a week, they’d all be gone. Clover wondered what his heart would look like, once his skin was clean and new.

He got dressed, then padded downstairs to make breakfast.

Winter was already in the kitchen, sipping coffee at the counter.

“Good morning,” she said, pouring him a cup. “Still keeping military hours, I see.”

“I’m a morning person, anyway,” he said, accepting the coffee and pondering what to make.

Something simpler, today. Maybe a breakfast casserole. Something everyone could come and take pieces of as they woke, as little or as much as they wanted. They had bread, leftover from last night. Plenty of eggs and cream. Ham, tomatoes, mushrooms, cheese, peppers, green onion. He located two massive ceramic casserole dishes in the cabinet. That could work.

Winter sat while he cooked, working on her scroll. He thought about her as a little girl, feet swinging from the stool. “Winter,” he said, passing her a few cubes of ham. “Thank you. For everything.”

She looked up. There was a moment where her gaze flicked to the low corner cabinet, but just as quick she was back to him, eyes bright and clear. “Of course,” she said, smiling.

She would make an excellent General, one day.

They played cards while the casseroles baked, sitting side by side. There wasn’t much else to do at that point.

The house was still quiet by the time breakfast was ready. Clover ate as much as he could stomach and then begged off to the back garden. He’d said his goodbyes last night. He wasn’t sure he could do them all over again. Sometimes people came out to chat with him, to give him little smiles or well-wishes. Ruby hugged him, again. Weiss brought him more coffee. Blake squeezed his shoulder and gave him a little smile. Yang challenged him to a rematch, once they got to Vacuo.

As she and Blake turned to go back into the house, Yang frowned. “Where’s Uncle Qrow?”

Clover shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. He was still sleeping when I woke up, and I haven’t seen him since. It’s okay, though. We…already said our goodbyes.”

Yang just stared at him for a second, then she turned on her heel and stomped inside the house. Blake gave an apologetic smile, wished him luck, then followed. Clover shrugged it off. He was exhausted.

Cedar showed up not long after breakfast. Clover was nursing a final cup of coffee and staring out into the yard. At the sound of boots approaching, he let out a breath.

Cedar took one look at him, at the fresh marks on his neck, and sighed.

“Oh, Shrimp…”

Clover closed his eyes, resigned. “Relax, my virtue is still intact. Just…let me have this, okay?”

He opened his eyes, taking a final look out into the tangled vines of the garden. Standing, he patted Cedar on the shoulder. “There’s a plate in the oven for you. I’ll go get my things.”

He turned and went inside.

* * *

The deception would work like this: Cedar’s supply runs usually brought food and raw materials from the south to Atlas, then returned with any dust needed in Argus. The state of Atlas post-Salem was such that the trips _to_ Atlas were needed much more frequently than the trips _from_. That left a vacancy in the cargo hold. Willow Schnee had arranged, in a charitable display, to fill that vacancy with family heirlooms destined for museums in Mistral. Winter explained it as a win-win; they could get him out of the kingdom while simultaneously returning some questionably-obtained foreign artifacts, building goodwill with Mistral. They would load the shipment from the Old Schnee House, unload it onto Cedar’s cargo ship in Atlas, then hightail it to Argus, hopefully without incident.

“You’ll be out in no time, Shrimp,” Cedar said, as Clover lowered himself into a wooden crate, glaring. In a final indignity, he was being shipped across the borders like literal cargo. He cast a final look around. The kids were helping load everything into the Schnee personal transport. There was still no sign of Qrow. Just before Cedar closed him in, he saw Yang slam the lid of a crate shut, her eyes flashing red.

The changeover went smoothly. Winter would fly the Schnee transport back to Mantle while Cedar and his co-pilot took them to Argus. He recognized the voice of Lieutenant Moss, who normally did the supply runs, directing the transfer of the cargo. She was Cedar’s right-hand woman, another Argus native. This was quite the step up from slipping Cedar’s letters into his mailbox. He wondered if it was better or worse for her to know what was in the cargo hold.

Cedar rapped the lid of the crate twice, the all-clear signal, before heading to the cockpit. And then they were in the air, Mantle and Atlas and James’s apartment and the Old Schnee House long behind them, untethered.

A clean break.

Cedar handed off control, coming into the cargo hold to let him out. He lifted the lid off the crate. Clover just looked up at him, hugging his knees to his chest.

“It’s done,” he said, sullen. “Are you happy?”

Cedar ruffled his hair, sympathetic. “I really am sorry, Shrimp.”

Clover stood, moving to climb out. As he hooked one leg over the side of the crate, there was an alert from the cockpit. Both of them froze.

“Hold on,” Lieutenant Moss called. “Sir, they’re asking us to circle back to Atlas.”

They exchanged looks. Cedar gestured for him to get back in, which he did. As Cedar shut the lid of the crate, he gave Clover a tight smile. “I’ll handle this,” he said. “Probably just some bureaucratic garbage. My specialty, right?”

Clover felt them turn and climb. His heart pounded in his chest. It had to be James. He _knew._

They touched down, probably at the Academy. All the easier to whisk him back up to that gods-damned apartment. Clover held his breath. Maybe this wasn’t anything. Maybe Cedar was right. He could hear voices, from the cockpit. There was Cedar’s booming work voice.

“What seems to be the problem? We were already cleared for takeoff. Must be serious to warrant burning extra fuel, given our current situation.”

“My fault, I should have flagged you before you left. Noticed you were heading to Argus, is all. There’s been some security issues lately and we’re doing some additional inspections.”

Clover couldn’t place the voice. It sounded male, and maybe familiar? But there were _hundreds_ of soldiers on campus full time, _more_ once they’d closed the borders.

“I can assure you,” Cedar said. “Everything on this ship is exactly as specified. I double-checked it myself.”

“With all due respect, sir, that’s not really how this process works.”

The guy sounded like kind of a tool.

“Look kid, we’re running about eight of these supply drops a day.” Cedar countered, condescending. “We really can’t be wasting time with unnecessary inspections. Unless you want to be responsible for delaying Amity even further.”

Huh, maybe Winter had a point about Cedar. He kind of liked to throw his weight around. He was also _really proud_ of the number of supply runs coming out of Argus.

“Oh, this won’t take long at all,” a different voice said. “We just need to take a quick look in the–oh, hey Cedar!”

Shit. That was _Elm._

Clover’s heart raced.

So the other person was…it must be the new Ace Op. Who the _fuck_ was that? It certainly wasn’t Flynt Coal. Or _any of the other people_ Clover would have picked. A hysterical annoyance cut through the panic.

“Sorry, I mean Major Ebi. Didn’t expect to see you flying one of these. What’s wrong, need to get away from the missus?”

“Elm, always a pleasure,” Cedar said, voice high with put-on friendliness. He gave a ridiculously fake laugh. “You got me. You know how it is. Take my wife, please!”

Clover made a face. If anyone ever actually said that within earshot of Valerie Su, she would personally gut them with a fishing knife.

Elm laughed. “Well, I won’t keep you too long. Just gonna do a quick security check.”

“Great,” Cedar said, voice tight. “Head on back.”

Oh, Gods. They were coming back. Clover heard the cargo doors open, and the sound of footsteps. The new guy said something.

“Major Ebi, isn’t he related to…”

“You know what? I got this, kid. These Argus ships are tiny. Why don’t you head on to the next one.”

“But this could be–Er. Yes, ma’am.”

Clover said a thank-you to the Atlesian chain of command. Just Elm, then. Maybe she wouldn’t spot him. But if she did…oh gods, would he have to fight her? He should have thought about this. He gripped Kingfisher. Maybe if he got the drop on her he could–

“Like I said, I checked everything myself. Should all be in place.”

Shit, _Cedar._

He and Lt. Moss would be Court Martialed. James would throw the _book_ at them.

The kids. No. No, no, no.

He could hear Elm pacing around the hold, poking into a few crates. Her footsteps drew closer. She was coming _right for him_.

The footsteps stopped. The lid of the crate opened.

Clover held his hands up in surrender, gently placing his weapon down. Elm stared at him, crouched in the crate, blinking. Timber was slung over her shoulder, one hand frozen on its handle while the other held the lid of the crate. In as low of a voice as he could, he spoke.

“I’ll go, okay? I won’t resist. I’ll go back to James or…or to a reformatory, or whatever the Council decides. Just please, don’t do anything to Cedar. He can’t go to prison. He’s got two kids, there’s a third one coming in a _month_.”

He met her eyes, pleading. “He was _just_ trying to help. I…I’ll do anything. I won’t try to run again. And I didn’t get kidnapped, and it’s not because of Qrow. Qrow’s…he not even _here_ , you can check every crate, he was just helping me do what I was already trying to do. I’m sorry I lied to you, Elm, I’m sorry I lied to _everyone,_ just _please_ don’t make those kids grow up without their father.”

There was a long pause. Clover braced himself. Either way this went, he would have to face James. This was going to hurt.

Elm turned, calling out behind her. “Looks like this one’s clear!”

She turned back to him and _winked._

Clover’s mouth dropped open. Elm extended an arm down. He grasped it. It was a little awkward, with him still ducking in the crate, but they made it work, nodding at each other affirmatively. Before she shut the crate, Elm jerked her thumb out the open cargo door. She mouthed, ‘ _fucking new guy._ ’

Clover snorted. Elm shut the lid, and he heard the doors close. He didn’t let out his breath until they were in the air.

* * *

When Cedar let him out of the crate, he was shaking with relief. He jumped up, pulling his cousin into a tight hug. “You stupid idiot. You…you absolute horse’s ass. I cannot believe what a monumentally dumb fucking moron you are.”

Cedar chuckled, clapping him on the back. “I’m sorry too, Shrimp.”

He grasped Cedar’s shoulder for balance as he stepped out, then sunk down to the floor, leaning against the wall. He pressed his palms to his eyes, in shock. “ _Gods_ , I cannot believe that just happened.”

Cedar ruffled his hair. “It’s over, now. We’ll be out of Mantle in ten. Try to get some rest, okay? You look like you could use it.”

Clover nodded. He leaned to the side, resting his head on a different crate and stretching out his legs in front of him. The lack of sleep was catching up with him, and he felt exhausted in more ways than one. His heart was still beating a mile a minute.

“I seriously can’t take it, Ce. If just one more thing happens I’m gonna lose it,” he said. He closed his eyes, trying to think of nothing.

Next to his ear, there was a muffled squawk.

Clover jerked back. He twisted around and pried the lid off of the container he’d been leaning against.

Inside was _Qrow_.

He grabbed the bird, lifting him up to eye level as Qrow flapped his wings in protest.

“What the fuck?” Cedar exclaimed, jumping back. “How did that bird even get in there?”

Clover sputtered. “You…how did…you can’t keep _doing_ this Qrow, you’re gonna give me a fucking _heart attack_ if you...would you just–“

Qrow transformed, and suddenly he had a lap full of the man himself.

“Seriously, what the _fuck?!_ ” Cedar shouted.

Clover steadied the alpha, hands on his waist, as Qrow braced himself on his shoulders. “Sorry,” Qrow said, sheepish. “By the time I decided to come, you were already loading up, and then I didn’t think your cousin would let me.”

The two men turned to the elder Ebi, who was staring openmouthed.

“Look away,” Clover called, and that was all the warning he gave before pulling Qrow into a kiss. Qrow yelped in surprise as Clover grasped at him, kissing him and then crying and then laughing and then smacking the back of his head and then kissing him again. Cedar threw up his hands and retreated to the cockpit.

“What about…” Clover pulled back, his eyes searching Qrow’s. “Your nieces, Qrow, I can’t make you leave them for me.”

“They don’t need me.” Qrow said, shaking his head. “They’re so strong, Cloves, _you_ helped me see that. We’ll meet up, soon. I trust them.”

He looked down, a bit embarrassed. “Plus, Yang yelled at me and punched me."

Clover laughed, sniffling. “That’s…that’s very sweet, Qrow, but I…”

Something ate at the back of his mind. Like he was taking something that didn’t belong to him. Ruby and Yang deserved their uncle, just like Bianca and Rafe deserved their dad. He couldn’t ask Qrow to mend his broken heart with borrowed thread.

Clover shook his head. “I…I can’t let you do this, Qrow, not on my account.”

He pushed Qrow away, _hard_. Surprised, the alpha fell back. Clover scrambled up and pounded the side doors with his fist. As they whooshed open, he advanced on the other man. They were still over Mantle. Rooftops flew by, with the wall not far ahead. He could make it if he moved fast.

“Qrow, I’m really sorry. You can’t make this sacrifice for me. I have to throw you out of this ship right now.”

“What the…Clover!” Qrow scooted away from his grasp, jumping up. He held his hands out in defense. “Can we just talk about–stop it!“

Clover drew his weapon, ready to kick him out by force if necessary. From the cockpit, Cedar was yelling at them _both_ to cut it out, that they were on a _moving airship_. But Clover was hyper-focused on the alpha before him. He cast a line.

With a lucky shot, he managed to wrap Qrow around the middle. As he went to swing him out, Qrow transformed, actually passing _through_ the open door for a moment before flying back in. The shift in weight had Clover stumbling forward, nearly losing his footing. As he caught himself, Qrow dive-bombed his head with a loud squawk. He blocked his face, staggering back from the flapping wings and the rush of buildings beneath them. 

Qrow flew past him and transformed back in the far corner of the ship, perched on a crate out of reach. “It’s not a sacrifice! _I_ need _you_ , okay?”

Clover froze.

Qrow panted, out of breath. He ran a hand through his hair. “I need you, Lucky Charm. The way I haven’t needed anyone in a long time. You…you make me stronger. And better. I don’t even _think_ about drinking when I’m around you. Or my semblance. Actually, I feel…lucky. That you would ever even give me the time of day. And yeah, I hate what the world has done to you, and yeah, I want your every waking moment from now on to be happy; but it’s selfish, really, because _I_ want to be the one to do it and _I_ want to be the one to make you smile, and _I_ want to be the one you come to when you need help. That’s why I kept coming back, even though I was too much of a coward to tell you it was me.”

Clover stared, cautious. “I thought you just felt guilty, about the transport?”

“I did. I do. But I also just…wanted to see you. To be the highlight of your day.”

Clover’s heart was beating in his ears. He lowered Kingfisher. Slowly, he approached, considering Qrow’s speech.

It was…shockingly, minus the drinking and the bird stuff, a lot like what he would have told Qrow, if anyone had asked him.

“You…really feel that way?”

“I do,” Qrow said, rushed, panicked. “That’s fucked up, I know, and I’m sorry. If you want me to leave, I will, but I…I couldn’t let you go without telling you how much I fucking love you.”

Clover faltered. “What?”

Qrow balked, cursing. “Shit. I…I’m sorry. That’s too much, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just… “

“No one’s ever actually told me that before.”

Qrow paused. “What? Really?”

Clover smiled, sadly. “Not in so many words, no.”

“But how? You’re…” the alpha gestured at him, baffled, as if that explained anything.

Clover shrugged. “There’s lots not to like. I’m too tall, for an omega.”

Qrow shook his head. “I like it.”

“I’m too demanding.”

“I like that too,” Qrow said, blushing. “Obviously.”

“I work too hard. I’m not giving that up.”

“Same.”

“And I can’t even consider kids, until Salem’s defeated.”

“I already have eight, basically,” Qrow said. “Sometimes nine. So, not a problem.”

Clover looked down, to the ground flying by below them. They were well past Mantle now. The blur of buildings had given way to an endless expanse of white. Too late to turn back, unless Qrow was going to fly the whole way. Which Clover…didn’t particularly want him to do.

“You’re really something, Qrow,” Clover said, dabbing at his eyes. His whole face felt like it was on fire. He shut the side door. “I…I don’t know if I…I might need some time, okay? To say it back?”

“That’s fine,” Qrow said, stepping forward. “You don’t have to.”

Clover holstered his weapon with a sniffle. He couldn’t stop crying. “What about the kids?”

“We’ll meet them in Vacuo. Both of us. Whenever you’re ready. Whenever _we’re_ ready. We’ll go…together, okay?”

Clover sniffled, nodding. “It might be kind of boring, in Argus.”

From the cockpit, Cedar grumbled at the characterization. “I could use the break,” Qrow said, shrugging. A sly smile crept onto his face. “Besides, I’m sure you can think of some things for us to do.”

Clover laughed through his tears, hiccupping. A thought occurred to him. He looked up. “You can meet the rest of my family,” he said, a smile tugging at his mouth. Calling to the cockpit, he shouted, “Right, Ce?”

“Yes, please, invite your lover into my home with my two, soon to be three children. Maybe he can teach my kids how to _turn into_ _birds_.” Cedar called back. “My wife is very good at punching, by the way!”

He laughed again, scrubbing his face. “Don’t listen to him, he likes you. They’ll all like you.”

Qrow smiled, painfully earnest. “I’m sure they’re amazing. Just like you, Lucky Charm.”

Clover sniffled, again. “Would you just…” he reached out.

Qrow rushed to him. They met in a jumble of limbs, trying to hold each other as close as possible. Clover grasped the alpha’s face with his hands as he brought their lips together, sweet and slow. Qrow held him through the tears, until his shuddering stopped and his breath calmed to an even rhythm. He could feel the beat of the other man’s heart, impossibly strong against his own.

“Stay,” he whispered. “I want you to stay. With me.”

Eventually, he pulled back. He studied Qrow’s crimson eyes. They held a kind of gentle wonderment, laid bare, like Qrow couldn’t quite believe he was even allowed to _look_ at Clover. There was nothing but love there, big and scary and exciting as it was. It wasn’t anything like James, who looked at him with passion, or heat, or fondness, or trust, even. But never love, not like this.

Clover couldn’t believe how different it looked, now that he’d finally seen it in person.

“Crimson clover…” he mumbled, lost in thought.

Qrow furrowed his brow, confused. “Your mother’s flower?”

Clover nodded. Most people just thought of it as a weed, or a cover crop between seasons to help the soil. But his mother loved it. When she took him to her childhood home in Mistral they would spend all day in those bright fields, just wasting time. It wasn’t fancy, but it was functional and helpful and nice to look at and it made her happy.

“I just realized,” Clover said, “It’s the exact same color of your eyes.” He smiled, wistful, brushing Qrow’s bangs from his face. “I think she would have liked you.”

The owner of said eyes blushed, averting his gaze. He coughed, then hesitantly peeked back up at Clover. “That’s, uh…quite an honor.”

Clover thought about his mother. Telling her about Salem, about the Battle of Mantle, about what he’d done on the transport. About Qrow. He could even, maybe, consider a world where he told her about James, about all he’d been through. The bad times–like her death, like James–were still bad. They were still there. But the person he’d become as a result of them was so much stronger. Surely, she’d be proud of that.

“I think I’d like to kiss you, again,” Clover said.

“Anything you want,” Qrow breathed. “Yes.”

So he did.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooooooo boy. What a ride it's been. I...am honestly at a bit of a loss for words, as I've come to this. This fic started as an idea for a oneshot, that was _just_ going to be the transport scene. Of course, it looked quite different without the context. So then the whole idea of what might have happened after evolved around that, and it blossomed into this brain-eating monster that has taken over my life for the last few weeks. 
> 
> The world looks a lot different than it did when I started writing this. I think it would be dishonest to say that that hasn't affected the way I wanted to end this. Namely, that I wanted a much deeper resolution than my original plan, which would have mostly ended after the heist. I wanted to put these characters at least on the road to a recovery and love, and thus the last three chapters. Is it crazy for Qrow to declare his love? Idk, but it felt right. And after everything Clover had been through, I felt like he needed to hear it. 
> 
> As for James, I think Blake said it best: Clover doesn't _need_ to be the one to resolve all his issues. Maybe James will learn, maybe he won't, but Clover owes him nothing. And this has always been Clover's story, first.
> 
> I think, after a brief break (because Animal Crossing), I will continue with this universe. I'm not sure how much I'll do yet, but at the very least I want to do some vignettes of these two in Argus, covering Clover's recovery. 
> 
> Finally, I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who has commented, given kudos, or just read and enjoyed this fic! This was the biggest thing I've EVER written, and the first fic I've posted publicly. I can't express enough how amazing you all are. Super duper extra shoutouts to lizzieonawhim, thequietcanadian, Firekitten, pretentiouskneecap, and graytail69 for commenting on...I think like, every single chapter??? HOW ARE YOU ALL SO AMAZING??? It still stuns me that anyone would want to read this strange bird of a...kind of dystopian ABO, kind of traditional ABO, kind of romance, kind of AU character study fic. 
> 
> Once again, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Break the Tomb (To Grow to New Heights)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378371) by [Firekitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firekitten/pseuds/Firekitten)




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